Iron Man University
by littleasiandumpling
Summary: When an intelligence professor at Stark University uncovers a terrorist plot stemming from their very workplace, the school's faculty must work together with the original Iron Man and the new explosives expert on campus to protect California. MarySue xP.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

* * *

"Hey, Kat, I'm going for sushi, you wanna come?"

Kathleen looked up from her desk where she was grading exams--Elizabeth was leaning against the doorframe into her office. At a small five feet and one inch, Elizabeth Chau stood out among the faculty of Iron Man University. Elizabeth and Kathleen had become quick friends, being two out of three female professors, out of sixty-something professors in total.

"Yeah, sure, just let me finish grading this one test."

"Midterms?" Elizabeth guessed. "What's the average grade so far?"

"Not...very....good," Kathleen answered, marking off three multiple choice answers in a row.

"Well, I know you're a good professor, so your students must be some kind of stupid," Elizabeth remarked. "Are those the target exams?"

On the corner of Kathleen's desk was a stack of bullet-hole marred targets. Elizabeth picked up the first target exam on the stack and held it up. None of the bullet holes even came close to the bulls-eye.

"Fail. You better give this one an 'F'," Elizabeth said dryly.

"You're so cruel. Some people have aim issues. You know the target exams are difficult."

"I prefer the term 'merciless.' It's much more epic."

Elizabeth Chau was the leading expert in the Iron Man unit of intelligence and interrogation. She was hired at twenty-two years of age for the new Iron Man unit, just graduating summa cum laude with a degree in Security and Intelligence Studies. After five years working at the Iron Man Headquarters, Elizabeth was relocated to Malibu, where President Norris had decided to shut down Pepperdine University and rebuild it as Stark University.

At first, Elizabeth had been furious that she was being taken away from Washington, D.C., to do what she firmly believed was "pencil pushing." But after speaking with her colleagues, and after cornering the people responsible for her relocation, Elizabeth found out that Stark University was the government's way of placing a network of Iron Men in the major city of Los Angeles without alarming the liberal population of California. This made perfect sense to her. She was one of the Iron Men analysts who developed the hypothesis that one of the major California cities--Los Angeles, San Francisco, or San Diego--would be the next terrorism target.

"So what happened with that guy who got your number at that bar the other night?" Kathleen asked absently, calculating the student's score in her mind.

"What guy? I don't remember a guy."

Kathleen paused in her work, looking at Elizabeth with raised eyebrows.

"I knew you were drunk. Too many martinis!" Kathleen chided.

"That's ridiculous. Iron Men don't get drunk."

"We're technically not Iron Men."

"_I_ don't get drunk," Elizabeth replied firmly. "Is that who's been texting me this morning? 'Hey baby doll.' What a douche. I don't even have this guy's name in my contacts. He must not have been all that spectacular."

"Your standards are too high."

"Says the person who required her man to have spurs?"

Like Elizabeth expected her to, Kathleen just replied with a smile and dismissive wave of her hand. She would have continued to make fun of Kathleen's tastes in men, which were so different from her own, except her phone vibrated in the purse that was slung over her arm. She examined it with concentration on her face.

"Is it that guy? The bar guy?"

"No...I asked Galia in the administration office to tell me if our extremely contentious President of the Board happens to visit the campus. He's been avoiding answering my messages asking for more funding for the Intelligence Program here, and I want to talk to that moron face-to-face."

"So is he going to be here?"

"Yeah, he's going to be here for a meeting to discuss new additions to the faculty."

"Oh. Noobs. How wonderful," Kathleen said sarcastically.

"Nobody's going to replace us, though. We're unmatched," Elizabeth replied without arrogance, just matter-of-factly.

Kathleen grabbed her purse.

"Let's go...I need sushi."

* * *

Fin's Sushi Bar and Restaurant was bustling at the lunch rush hour with people downing maki rolls and sashimi, shoveling Japanese sushi rice into their hungry mouths, sipping sake slowly enough so that their heads didn't buzz, barely enough to get a warm feeling in their middles.

"More sake?" Kathleen offered. "Meeting with authority figures is more fun if you're buzzing."

Elizabeth held up her tiny sake cup for more, chewing quietly and thoughtfully on her spicy tuna. She was trying to carefully formulate in her mind the exact words she would say to the President of the Board. Her past experiences with authority always ended with her inevitable sharp tongue and extreme opinions getting her into trouble, and this time, in order to be effective, she wanted to catch her flies with honey, not vinegar. Her phone beeped and vibrated again, rudely jerking her out of her sushi-induced concentration.

"What news, general?" Kathleen asked, picking up a piece of salmon roll and popping into her mouth.

"Their meeting ends around three o'clock. I'm gonna head over right as I'm coming back, do you wanna come with?"

"Are you asking me if I want to come witness you shake down the President of the Board?"

"I'm not going to 'shake him down,' gawd, Kathleen--"

"You're approaching--if not, intercepting him--to get money from him," Kathleen said with a smirk on her face. "No matter what you call it, I'm not going to miss it."

Elizabeth drained her sake, and then checked her phone. It was only one-thirty, and all she could think about was meeting with the President. "Eat the rest of my cucumber roll," Elizabeth said, plopping three pieces of sushi on Kathleen's plate.

"Are you sure you don't want it?"

"It's too big."

"_THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID_."

"Oh gawd, Kathleen, you just had to take it to a bad place."

"I wasn't going to let that one pass--you're the one who said it in those words."

Kathleen was the sophisticated professor of projectile weaponry at Stark University. At five feet and ten inches, she was taller than most of the small, pasty scientists who made up the rest of the projectile weaponry faculty. With her fair skin and dark brown hair, she attracted the attention of many of her indoors-y male colleagues. Only her high standards kept her single.

Like Éli, Kathleen had been taken from her job to work as a Stark University. But unlike Elizabeth, Kathleen had to make an even bigger transition from clandestine work to teaching. Her expertise was, in simple terms, shooting. She knew how to work anything from a bazooka to a tiny handgun. Kathleen was a modern-day Annie Oakley. While Elizabeth could hit her target ninety-nine percent of the time, Kathleen could hit anything she wanted anytime she wanted. Elizabeth usually left the gun questions to her friend, and tackled the martial arts problems herself.

Elizabeth was as small as Kathleen was tall, with extremely long black hair she usually kept in a strict, long ponytail high up on her head. Kathleen, on the other hand, kept her hair short, cut in the same 60's style as Audrey Hepburn. Elizabeth stuck with simple all black outfits, while Kathleen defied the expectations of her colleagues and dressed in daring fashions that included but was not limited to high heels and skirts. "I've virtually got a desk job now, I don't need to be in running boots and limber wall-climbing pants, wearing a Batman utility belt," she would always say when people expressed disbelief that she was a sharpshooter. "Shall we start walking back?" Kathleen suggested, patting her mouth with a napkin. She started to reapply her lipstick, a pleasant rosy color. "We can stop by that gelato shop and still have enough time for you to hover and prepare for the Great Ambush."

* * *

Elizabeth and Kathleen sat on the edge of a planter. Kathleen watched the door of the meeting room like a guard on duty, occasionally taking bites of her chocolate malted crunch ice cream. Elizabeth had a cone of sweet strawberry sorbet in one, but was concentrating on her phone. Every once in a while, she licked any melting sorbet that threatened to trickle stickily onto her fingers. A large group of men began to leave the conference hall--Kathleen nudged Elizabeth to get her attention.

"Are any of those guys el Presidente?" Kathleen asked, examining each and every single one.

"No. I imagine he'll be one of the last to leave."

They waited for the crowd of men with a few women sprinkled in the crowd to leave, and as the last began to slowly make their way out, Elizabeth prepared herself to approach them. With Kathleen at her two-inch black pumps, Elizabeth confronted the final group of four men: a middle-aged Caucasian man, a young man in an expensive dashing suit, another young man with bulging shoulders in similar dress, and a fourth guy in a dark trench coat.

"President Volker?" Elizabeth called inquiringly. The oldest looking man paused in his conversation and turned to the two women approaching him. Elizabeth realized just how ridiculous she must look, with a determined look on her face, holding a sweet sorbet cone in one hand, her friend following her like a bodyguard.

"May I help you ladies?"

As she got nearer to the President of the Board Berthold Volker, she saw that the three men he had been talking to were by no means normal. The dark man in the trench coat had bright, glowing eyes, and in one hand he clutched a long staff. With his other hand, he was fiddling with something in his pocket. While he was turned in the direction of President Volker, his eerie eyes were on Eli. The man with the bulging shoulders had what looked like angel wings jutting out from the edge of his jacket, which explained why he seemed to be bursting at the seams. The last man upon first glance seemed normal, but he had a certain aura of power and magnetism around him that caught the attention of those around him.

"Mr. Volker, I'm Elizabeth, Chairwoman of the Intelligence department. I'd like to speak to you about funding--"

"Ahh....Miss Chau. I have heard much from you. I'm sorry I haven't...quite gotten to your responding to your plentiful messages."

"Yes, sir, that is why I'd like to speak to you now," Elizabeth said.

"Well, if you would just contact my secretary, we can set up an appointment, but right now I'm occupied with some new potential professors--"

"But Mr. Volker--"

"--Mr. LeBeau, Mr. Worthington, if you would just come with us to Mr. Stark's office--"

"Mr. Volker, I insist on speaking with you now."

"Miss Chau. I'm afraid I can't speak with you now as I am taking up the precious time of our most generous benefactor Mr. Tony Stark, who as you can see, is right here with me. _Miss Chau_," Mr. Volker hissed, dropping his voice to a low level, bringing his face in close to Elizabeth's until their noses were inches apart, "I am currently preoccupied with something very urgent, so if you please."

"Is there a problem, Berthold?" the most ordinary of the strangers asked.

"No problem, Mr. Stark."

Tony Stark approached them, extending a business-like hand. He was taller than the already towering President Volker, and filled out his suit well. His brown hair was slicked back and he had a mustache that would have made any other man look like a porn star.

"Tony Stark," he said. Elizabeth ignored his handshake. Her attention was on Mr. Volker. "If the problem is funding, I'm very interested." He trained his gaze onto Kathleen, who was observing the situation unfolding with alertness and amusement. "Very interested." "No, Mr. Stark, we're done here with Miss Chau." Kathleen could see the storm brewing in Elizabeth's personal aura. She was speechless, her mouth open, stinging words forming on the tip of her tongue. It was time for her to cut in.

"Mr. Volker," Kathleen interrupted, extending her hand. "What Miss Chau just wants to talk to you about is funding so she can send her students on missions and so she can fund internships. This conversation will only take a few seconds of your time. You don't mind, do you, Mr. Stark?"

"No, of course not, and I can personally provide adequate funds for your friend's endeavors to improve the education here at my university. Remy, Warren, you don't mind, do you?"

There was something familiar about the dark man in the trench coat.

"I don't mind at all, Tony. Especially as I've been trying to contact Miss Chau today."

This statement disarmed Elizabeth suddenly, but before she could ask, Mr. Volker brought her back to the pressing matter at and.

"Alright, Miss Chau, whatever you want, just send it to my secretary, and I'll relay it to generous Mr. Stark, now, gentlemen, let us continue to Mr. Stark's office and we will negotiate salaries."

Remy LeBeau, also known as "Gambit," hadn't wanted to come to Malibu, California, to go to school. But he felt a strong sense of duty when his close personal friend Tony Stark, or "Iron Man," called him and decisively told him the date and time when he needed to be at the Stark University campus. After several years of being a free spirit, just recently divorced from his first wife, a temperamental only child female who had insecurities because she didn't have the maturity to control her own powers, Remy felt like attending the meeting for potential new professors and at least listening to Mr. Berthold Volker's pitch would be enough.

There were three things he encountered at the meeting that he hadn't expected. The first was his friend Warren Worthington, known to his fellow X-Men as "Angel." While Gambit had not been an X-Men, he often fought alongside them and with Angel because of his wife, Anna Marie, or "Rogue." After their messy divorce, Gambit got in bad with the X-Men, except for Warren. That is when they became friends, so Warren was a welcome sight to him.

The second thing he didn't expect was that Tony and Volker kept Warren and him after the meeting, speaking to the two personally. Volker wanted to give the two super-powered men positions as professors in two new divisions that they were planning to open up. Warren, with his knowledge of flying, would help the Iron Men scientists to create metal wings. Gambit's power, which was essentially the ability to explode things, he would work with the explosives team. He was tempted to take the job.

The third shocking thing was the sight that was before him. A somber young woman who looked too short to put her carry-on luggage in the overhead bin, her hair pulled back in a strict pony tail that reached the top of her buttocks, a look of indignation on her face while she held an ice cream cone, strawberry sorbet to be exact, in her hand. This sight, Miss Elizabeth Chau, set feelings through him, a fascination and an attraction he hadn't felt since he laid eyes on Rogue. In a way, he felt like these feelings were even stronger this time around. Upon seeing Miss Elizabeth, he wanted to work there. With her. Near her.

She was with a friend, a tall, leggy brunette who was eyeing him suspiciously with a knowing look on her face. Remy was done with tall, leggy brunettes. He felt like petite, serious, work-obsessed Intelligence professors would be a refreshing change. The brunette's stare was unnerving him. He was thankful when she shifted her eyes onto Tony Stark, who was eyeing her with the same amount of intensity.

"Alright, Miss Chau, whatever you want, just send it to my secretary, and I'll relay it to generous Mr. Stark, now, gentlemen, let us continue to Mr. Stark's office and we will negotiate salaries," Volker said impatiently, hustling them in the different of Tony's rarely used office.

"Mr. Volker, since I already know that a bill will be coming my way, would you mind if I extend a dinner invitation to these ladies?" Tony said suavely. "So that we may discuss this more in depth." Remy looked on with a smirk on his face as Volker sputtered in his speechlessness.

"Well, y-yes. Of course, Mr. Stark," Volker finally said, still at a loss for words in the presence of that which was Tony Stark and his ability with the ladies. Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw a thin trickle of melted sorbet about to touch Elizabeth's thin, tapered fingers, which were wrapped delicately around her waffle cone. He reached out a finger and wiped the sorbet before it could make her sticky. If he tabbed this woman right, she wasn't the type who liked being sticky in a professional situation. Instinctively, Remy placed his finger in his mouth and licked the sorbet off.

"You were dripping," he explained when she stared at him with surprise.

"I'm sure she was," Kathleen said from behind her. Tony cleared his throat quickly.

"Tonight, pick you two up at seven?"

"Seven is great," Kathleen said, returning Tony's smile with her own brilliant, confident one. Elizabeth seemed to be confused by what was transpiring before her.

"Alright, ladies, we'll pick you up from your apartments at seven. I didn't get your name, Miss....?"

"Kathleen. Just Kathleen."

"Well, Miss Kathleen. It was enchanting to meet you. I'll see you two tonight. No need to exchange numbers--I can find yours in the faculty directory, and Miss Chau, I believe Mr. LeBeau already has your number," Tony concluded. Extending a hand, he pointed the men in the direction in which they were headed.

As the men left the two women behind, walking briskly, Tony neared Remy and whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"What?"

"You're coming with me tonight."

* * *

_It was funny how I saw you today. _

_What's your name again?_

_Remy LeBeau_.

"Oh my god," Elizabeth exclaimed while they were in Elizabeth's apartment getting ready for dinner.

"What?" Kathleen asked, emerging from the bathroom with a curling iron in her hair. Her face was made up impeccably so that she glowed. Elizabeth was sitting on the edge of her bed, wrapped cozily in her black comforter. The little woman was staring at her cellphone, reading a text with eyes wide with shock and realization.

"That guy. That guy. The one I supposedly met at the bar? That was him."

"Who was him? Elizabeth, you're not making any sense. You need to start getting ready--please don't go to dinner with the dashing Mr. LeBeau in your work clothes."

"The guy I met at the bar was Mr. LeBeau. His first name is Remy."

"As in the antihero of Louisiana? That Remy LeBeau?"

"You know about this guy?"

"Yeah. He has super powers. Like he can blow stuff up or something--at least, put some makeup on or something."

"It's just a business dinner, Kathleen, it's not like it's a date."

"Right, I'm calling dibs on Stark. I didn't know he was going to be so...human. I never imagined that Stark University's biggest benefactor was going to be so down-to-Earth," Kathleen said, setting the curling iron on the marble counter and rooting through Elizabeth's closet. She plucked out a royal blue strapless dress and threw it in Elizabeth's direction. "Wear that. You get LeBeau." Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. She shouldn't have even purchased those dresses. But Kathleen wasn't going to give up and would keep finding flattering dresses for Elizabeth to wear for this one dinner. Her friend was already going through her makeup drawer and was finding eyeliners and mascaras for her to wear.

"Alright, I'm not going to make you wear lipstick but that's only because I think LeBeau is going to try to kiss you tonight. This is the second time you guys will be drinking some kind of alcoholic drink together."

* * *

The two girls were waiting outside in the cold as a shiny, black limo pulled up. Tony stepped out first, dashing in a black tuxedo.

"Wow, Kathleen." She looked incredible. Being tall, the dress hung on her well, accentuating the right parts of her body. Her dress was floor length, dark emerald green. She held a creamy clutch purse as she eyed her date. Her hair was gently curled and framed her face. Tony couldn't help but notice that her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were sweetly blushing from the cold of the night.

Remy stepped out of the limo from behind him, his hands in his pockets, probably clutched around his cellphone and his deck of cards. His eerie, glowing eyes passed carelessly over Kathleen, but stopped when he saw Eli.

Elizabeth looked different from the serious professor they had met earlier. She was wearing a bright blue strapless dress. Her eyes were rimmed with creamy black kohl, her hair left down. Her hair was still in a high, loose ponytail, but because it was curled tightly in what Tony could only guess was Kathleen's doing, she didn't look practical, but glamorous. She wasn't keeping her shivering to a minimum as well as Kathleen was. In Malibu, the ocean kept the weather cool compared to the rest of Los Angeles, and Elizabeth nearly vibrated as her teeth chattered, her breath visible in the air. She looked a lot more vulnerable this way, something Tony knew Remy was a complete sucker for.

Remy's mouth was open slightly as he gaped at the woman he had been intrigued by earlier. Suddenly, the sides of his jacket burst. He had been so entranced that he accidentally exploded his whole deck of cards and his cellphone within his pockets.

"Did I excite you, Mr. LeBeau?" Elizabeth asked dryly. Kathleen giggled.

"You...you clean up well."

Tony clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"I've got an extra jacket in the limo for this such occasion. I got your back," Tony assured. He extended a hand to help Kathleen into the limo. "Ladies?"

* * *

January 29, 2010 Update: Changed the name of "Eli" to "Elizabeth."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

* * *

There was a knock on Tony's office door. His young assistant Aldo Malvagio stood at the door, clutching a clipboard to his chest.

"Mr. Stark, there's someone waiting for you in the living room."

"Who is it, Aldo? And you know you can call me 'Tony'..."

"Yes, sir. He says his name is 'Gambit.'"

"Bring him down here, Aldo, it's rude to make people wait."

"No need," came a voice from behind Aldo. Remy leaned casually on the stairway rail. He was a tall drink of water, Tony could admit, and looked like he could crush his young assistant in the palm of his hand. Actually, Tony mused silently, Remy could obliterate the slight man without even touching him. "When are you going to get ready for tonight? You're not going to dinner in those grungy, grease-streaked, sweaty jeans, are you?"

"Hey. I work these babies. If I wanted to, I could get Kathleen in the sack wearing these dirty jeans, a plaid lumberjack shirt, and a Carmen Miranda fruit hat."

"I don't doubt that, Tony, but I thought this was going to be a business dinner," Remy said. "Do you have any cologne? I accidentally charged mine."

"You haven't accidentally blown something up since you proposed to Marie," Tony noted, tossing the cologne in Remy's direction. "And why are you picking on me about looking presentable? _Mr. Scruffy_. At least I'm clean-shaven."

Aldo had scurried away before Tony could get him to do his bowtie. He'd just have to go without one. It wasn't like he couldn't tie a bowtie himself. But he knew that Aldo could tie a mean bowtie. It was one of the reasons he hired the skittish guy.

Ever since Pepper Potts had left him, eloping with the chauffeur Happy of all people, he made a point of becoming self-capable. He realized that he didn't like needing someone to take care of him. When Pepper left, he learned how to do everything. He learned his social security number, he made an automatic, timed espresso machine, and he learned to become self-sufficient.

Tony didn't need a woman. Miss Kathleen was just going to be a fleeting moment in a guy's life.

"In case you didn't realize yet, I've called dibs on Kathleen. You get the scary looking torture expert."

"Don't paint her in a bad light. She only tortures terrorrists."

"You're already defending your woman? Remy. I'm delighted by this development."

Instead of answering with words, Remy chucked the glass bottle of cologne back at him. At that point, Tony knew him too well for arguing to do him any good.

They hadn't always been friends. When Tony first saw Remy, he saw a scoundrel. He didn't like the fact that with just a wink, Remy could blow up anything he wanted, including a human body. Learning Remy's past as a member of a thief gang didn't help his case.

But even after Remy decided to divorce his wife of seven years, Tony stood by him. Remy was a guy's guy, and Tony understood that Marie had her crazy, temperamental moments. In fact, Marie's power was only a tiny bit more dangerous than Remy's when it came to physical contact with another human, yet Remy controlled it a lot better. Tony had witnessed Remy struggle with controlling his kinetic energy countless times. He'd even had to stop him from charging a few prostitutes that accosted them as they drove through the streets of downtown Los Angeles.

On the surface, Remy LeBeau looked like a cold, greedy thief with no morals. Tony was one of only a handful of people who knew that his friend had a streak of duty in him that ran deeper than any of his other admirable qualities, such as his politeness, his compassion, and his courage. The original Iron Man hated to admit it, but Remy LeBeau, the scoundrel mutant from Louisiana, was a very good influence on him.

Aldo poked his head into the room.

"Mr. Stark, the car is ready."

"Alright, thank you, Aldo," Tony thanked the young man, who flushed with happiness. Tony turned to Remy and held his arms out to his sides. "How do I look?"

"Like you normally do."

"Excellent."

* * *

"This is a nice looking neighborhood," Tony remarked as they drove towards Eli's house. "Your girlfriend has class."

Remy just turned his glowing eyes in his friend's direction in warning. The glass of champagne in Tony's hand began to shake with energy.

"You need to get a handle on that," Tony remarked.

The shaking stopped.

"Pull over right here," Tony said to the driver. The two ladies were standing outside the door that led to Eli's house. Kathleen wasn't shivering as obviously as her smaller companion was, but both of their breaths came out in very visible clouds.

"Wow, Kathleen," Tony said as he stopped out of the car. She looked amazing--he was working hard to keep from wolf-whistling.

But Eli looked just as good, and Tony dearly wanted to know how Remy would react. Remy was expecting a mousy, solemn university professor. The difference between the intimidating from before and the attractive of now only made her look better.

What happened next was better than Tony could have imagined. Remy stepped out into the cold to greet his date. He had his hands in his pockets, partly from gruffness and partly from the cold. Almost immediately the sides of Remy's jacket burst.

"Do I excite you, Mr. LeBeau?" Eli asked. Her eyes were shining wickedly.

"You...you clean up well," he said. The remains of his cellphone and bits of a joker card littered the ground around his feet.

"I've got an extra jacket in the limo for this such occasion. I got your back," Tony offered. He held out a hand to Kathleen. "Ladies? It's cold, and as my assistant has just texted me, the restaurant hostess is expecting us."

* * *

The restaurant was not just a restaurant, as it turned out, but the restaurant night club combination that Tony had bought years ago. It was extremely exclusive--it even had a bouncer that greeted them warmly when he saw Mr. Stark approaching.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark," the tall gruff man said. He nodded to the lady on his arm and his friend and corresponding date.

"Hello, Roger," Tony greeted in reply. "This is my friend Remy, Eli, and this is Kathleen."

"Good evening, ladies, gentleman."

Every person greeted them kindly because they were with the charismatic and wealthy Mr. Stark. Most of the female patrons of the restaurant showed obvious signs of distress at seeing the tall brunette close at his side with her hand linked around his elbow. The stares didn't stop when he pulled her chair out for her and helped her sit, placing his hand possessively on the small of her back.

By the time they had ordered their food, the whole restaurant had become aware of Tony's presence. People were stopping at their table to express gratitude to the original Iron Man for all he had done for the United States. Tony had never made his superhero identity a secret--his alter ego was by no means "mild mannered" as the secret identity stereotype went. Over time, with the gradual increase of Iron Men soldiers, Tony's Iron Man became the last resort in times of crisis, giving him time to live a relaxing life of retirement where he could occupy himself with other enterprises besides saving the world. He was grateful, but never lost his flamboyance. People still knew who he was.

"A toast to new colleagues," Tony said, lifting his glass. "Remy, you are an excellent addition to the Stark University faculty."

"Thanks, Tony," Remy replied.

"A new explosives expert on campus. Oh, this is going to be exciting," Kathleen remarked. "I bet you could blow those pencil pushing scientists in the bomb lab out of the water."

"Oh, Kathleen, he can do that literally _and _figuratively," Tony said before Remy could modestly deny it.

"I don't think explosives are very necessary," Eli said suddenly. She thoughtfully took a sip of champagne. "We were doing fine with just guns and the force flight stabilizers. The last thing we need are live explosives strapped onto those already heavy metal suits."

"Excuse me, ma'am," Remy drawled as a slight Cajun accent crept into his speech. "Are you calling me useless?"

"No, just unnecessary."

Kathleen and Tony watched their exchange unfold and evolve into a heated debate.

"Right, because wars are fought with brains and psychological weaponry. Not all of us are psychic, Miss Eli."

"I have brought numbers of terrorists to their knees, Mr. LeBeau, and all you do is blow their faces off," she hissed.

"Lets see how that pretty brain of yours holds up against a brick of C-4."

Tony could see Remy's hand beginning to clench dangerously around the thin, fragile glass. Bubbles started to form rapidly in Gambit's champagne.

"Your disdain for the intellectual side of defeating the enemy is clear, Remy," Tony said in an effort to cut through the tension.

"Yes, Remy, you shouldn't dislike someone just because her IQ is higher than yours," Eli said snidely.

"You intellectual soldiers are against physical damage, you think everything can be solved by _talking it out_. Hugs all around!"

"Eli isn't just a thinker for the Iron Men, you know," Kathleen told him. She wanted Remy and Eli to work out just as much as Tony did. "She's an important person when it comes to interrogation."

"I think 'feared by millions' was the words the newspaper used," Tony added. Kathleen shot him a look as if to say "you're not helping." But Remy just stared at the fuming woman sitting across from him. All sorts of images of her wielding whips and handcuffs and administering torture techniques entered his mind. It was kind of funny and frightening at the same time. It was disturbingly easy to imagine her cute, small face set in a grim stony expression while she extracted tons of knowledge nuggets from the world's most despicable criminals.

"I suppose I shouldn't get on your bad side then, hm?" he said, reverting back to his charming, hypnotic self. Looking at her with his eerie, glowing eyes, he drained his glass. It was flat. He had charged all of the fizz out of it.

She just ignored him. The air was thick with her clear dislike of the dashing scoundrel staring at her from across the table. Their food came in a wave of attractive, beaming waitresses, all steaming plates and exquisite aromas. Eli's mood lightened as she tucked into her chicken. Kathleen noted gleefully that Remy's eyes returned every so often to Eli's face. She was carefully averting her gaze.

By the time they finished the meal, everyone was content and full of delicious food. All sour feelings had dissipated into the air. The champagne made Eli's face glow, Remy realized, because she was such a small person, and there was no way she would be able to handle a lot of alcohol. Her words weren't slurred or anything, but Remy could see the shine in her eyes and a milder grip on her self-tension. Kathleen, on the other hand, was completely normal. She and Tony were discussing the effectiveness of the projectile missiles equipped on the standard Iron Man suits, without any of the disagreeing tone that had been between Eli and Remy.

"Well, ladies, we should probably get you back to Eli's house. It's getting late and who knows what sort of things you've got planned for tomorrow."

Once they were outside, Tony called the driver with Kathleen's hand in the crook of his elbow again. Eli stood a little away from them, shivering in the night air, even colder than before. A warm smooth presence suddenly covered her and she jumped in surprise. Remy was behind her, placing his trench coat around her shoulders. His bare arms reflected a little in the moonlight, the energy racing through his body, warming him.

"Don't argue," he said smoothly. Eli could only look into his face for a few seconds before murmuring, "Thank you."

* * *

"We can take you back to your place, Kathleen," Tony said as they approached Eli's house. "I don't want you walking in the dark by yourself, especially dressed like that."

"Oh, what a gentleman you are," Kathleen said, winking at him and snuggling deeper into his side. The car came to a stop, and Eli bid her friend goodbye before stepping out. Remy followed her.

"Let me walk you to the door," he said. She raised an arched eyebrow at him.

"This is Malibu, Mr. LeBeau. I hardly need you to escort me."

He just gave her a look, as if to say, "Just let me be masculine, please."

The two of them began to walk towards the door, and Remy was the one who was purposefully walking slowly. Inside the limo, Tony chuckled watching. Kathleen lifted her head from his shoulder. "Look," he said, gesturing in their direction. They were at the door, talking quietly enough so the two in the limo couldn't hear, but Remy looked nervous, and, surprisingly, so did Eli.

"Five bucks says he kisses her," Kathleen said, causing Tony to chuckle.

"I don't know...he's been taking things a little slow ever since the wife left him?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah....it was hard on him. But I'll take that bet."

Kathleen's face was turned away from him, so he couldn't see the concentrated look on her face as she digested this new information. "Deal," she said.

"Look, I'm sorry about how I was at dinner," Remy said. The awkward in the air could have been cut with scissors.

"How were you at dinner?" Eli asked.

"I said some pretty rude crap about your job, and I'm sorry..."

"What's done is done, I suppose," she answered, dismissing his bad behavior with a shrug. Remy was slightly concerned with how accustomed she seemed to being treated badly by men.

"Yeah...so...when am I going to see you again?"

She raised an eyebrow at him again.

"Well, we'll be working together...at the same small university, so I imagine that would be very soon."

"I mean in more of a social context, cherie."

The endearment disarmed her quickly, another thing that bothered him.

"You...well...um...."

"How 'bout next weekend?" he suggested, the Cajun accent thick in his nervousness.

"I...don't know. Just text me later," she answered. He smirked. It wasn't eagerness, but it definitely wasn't a rejection either.

"Goodnight," Eli said, slipping the key into the lock. Her head snapped up to look at him when he placed a warm hand over hers.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

Remy just stared at her. More accurately, at her lips, which were dark red and slightly swollen from the champagne she had drunk during dinner. Realizing what he was thinking, her lips slightly parted in surprise. He lifted his other hand as if to caress her face, but at the last minute, ran the hand through his hair.

"Uh...goodnight night, cherie."

Eli looked away demurely, a blush crossing her nose. Without another word to him, she entered her house and closed the door behind her. Remy headed back to the limo, trying to figure out if he regretted holding back. A heated discussion awaited him.

"Aw, COME ON. You can tell he _wanted _to!" Kathleen insisted.

"But he still didn't actually do it!" Tony said gleefully. "I know my homeboy too well, Kathleen, that was a terrible bet to make with me."

"_But_--"

"Face it. You're just gonna have to cough up the five bucks. I beat you," Tony said.

Kathleen grumbled as she rummaged in her purse. She threw a crumpled five dollar bill at her dinner date.

"Happy?"

"Extremely," Tony said.

"You're such a dork."

"You're just jealous that I'm better at this than you," Tony quipped back.

Comprehension dawned on Remy as he watched this exchange.

"What the...did y'all make a_ wager _as to whether or not I would--_DAMMIT TONY."_

_ "_What?" Tony asked, miming a halo over his head. "I just find your romantic endeavors to be very interesting. And profitable. Is that a crime?"

"It's _insulting._"

"Aww, don't be upset. You two are just too cute to ignore. The two of us can't help being interested," Kathleen said.

"....You think we're cute?" Remy repeated.

"Oh yeah, _totally_. And another thing--she didn't directly turn you down. It means she likes you. At least kind of."

"Really?" Remy asked, his mood lifting instantly.

The rest of the car ride was pleasant as Tony directed the driver to Kathleen's house. Remy eventually fell asleep on Tony's other shoulder, and Kathleen sat up and a little distance away so that Tony wouldn't feel sandwiched. Little did she know that in this particular case, he wouldn't have minded.

"So I read an article in Sunset about your mansion the other day. Sounds pretty sweet," Kathleen said in an effort to make small talk.

"Oh yeah? It kind of is. You should come up and see it in person," he said, willing her to understand his other meaning by staring unblinkingly at her. However, she didn't seem to notice as she was staring out the tinted window.

"That would be nice. I also hear you're quite the art collector. I was an art major in college," she said.

"Oh, really? And now you're...a top 'gun' professor? When did the switch come about?"

"Tony. Please. The best gunmen in the world were art majors in college."

"Ah, of course."

Kathleen didn't live far from Eli, so the drive was short.

"Well, thank you. I had a really nice time," Kathleen said. She stepped one strappy heel onto the sidewalk. Tony wrapped a hand around her wrist before she could exit completely.

"Wait," he said.

"Yes?" she asked curiously, looking at him through her long, brunette eyelashes.

"Why don't you come to my mansion? Tonight? I could show you my...art collection..."

She finally understood his meaning. Just like Eli had to Remy, she raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks...but I don't usually see a man's 'art collection' until at least the third date. Call me old-fashioned."

"I see...well, at least let me walk you to your door," Tony offered, intrigued rather than stung that he had been turned down. But Kathleen shook her head.

"No, it's okay. You'll disturb Remy if you get out," she said, nodding her head at the man who had fallen asleep on Tony's shoulder. He muttered a name in his sleep that made Tony smile gently in a way that made Kathleen want to hug him. Kathleen's heart melted at the sight of Remy vulnerable, adorable, and still manly while asleep on Tony, who looked at his best friend protectively. This was a true bromance, no gay overtones, just pure manly friendship. Tony turned his gaze toward Kathleen.

"Can I...call you?"

The question sounded awkward and cute coming from him. It sounded like he didn't have to ask the question often. He usually was the one being called, obviously.

"Of course. Anyway," she answered as she got out of the limo, "I'll see ya."

"Yeah...see you around."

Tony sat back in his seat and hung his head back in shock. He lifted his head at the sound of heels clacking toward the limo.

"Wait a second," Kathleen said, popping her head back into the car. She kissed him on the cheek. "I really had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you."

Then she left. All of a sudden, Tony broke out in a grin.

"So she's old fashioned," he said to himself. He chuckled softly. "This will be fun."

* * *

"So what did you do for the rest of the weekend after our double date with the dashing debonair duo Iron Man and Gambit?"

"One. It wasn't a double date. Two. I did some research on Gambit. There isn't much out there about him. Not even in the confidential records."

Kathleen and Eli were walking to the administrative offices to pick up their paychecks. Eli had skirted around talking about Mr. Remy LeBeau, and eventually Kathleen gave up trying to get her to say her opinion on the man. When it came to men, Eli was all objectivity and logic. Of course she would _research _Remy. The clicking of their heels made heads turn--the presence of high heels meant women, unfortunately an uncommon presence on the Stark University campus. Young men of a range of ages openly stared at the two pretty women as they walked into the tall, impressing building that housed all the important offices.

Galia, the Secretary of the administrative office, greeted them when they entered through the heavy doors. Kathleen and Eli were a familiar face to her, being the only two professors who didn't wait for their paychecks to be delivered to their mailboxes. Galia was the epitome of a fairy-tale beauty. She had high-class cheekbones, golden caramel hair, and bright unearthly eyes. Her milky skin didn't help in keeping the male students from wandering into her office to flirt. Galia also had the curvaceous body that most males would find worth fighting for.

"Hello, ladies. Have you come for your paychecks?" Galia asked. She knew how neurotic Eli was about her routines. Every day before official paycheck day, Eli drops by her office to pick hers up. Kathleen usually was with her. They weren't close friends, even though they had the potential to be. Each time the three had interacted in a non-business setting, they had gotten along very well. But Galia's job as the Secretary to the President of the university kept her constantly busy. She didn't have much free time like Eli and Kathleen to go out like they always seemed to be doing.

The two professors stopped mid-conversation to smile and take the envelopes from Galia.

"How was your weekend, Galia?" Kathleen asked. Galia always thought Kathleen dressed so well, especially being the leading projectile, also known as _guns_, professor. Eli scared her a little more because her reputation had preceded her. The compact Eli always looked so serious, Galia had to wonder what about her made her friends with the outgoing Kathleen.

"It was fine, really uneventful. I had to work a lot though," Galia said. "I can feel the black circles under my eyes."

"I see no black circles," Eli said so matter-of-factly that Galia didn't feel like it was a compliment, more like a mere observation. "Your skin is seems just as clear as before."

"You should come out with us one weekend. Both of you," Kathleen said, looking from Galia to Eli with meaning, "need to stop working so hard. You make all the male employees look bad."

Galia laughed. Kathleen was always so friendly. It would be nice to see them more. Perhaps she could become part of their impressive, imposing bubble of epicness, even though she was just an administrative secretary. She had heard rumors that Kathleen could hit any target with anything she wanted. Eli, she heard, could translate effectively in more than seven languages, could extract a confession from and make a terrorist suspect piss his pants and cry like a baby without ever laying a finger on him. Many of the Stark University students actually voiced suspicions that Kathleen and Eli had super powers. But Galia had access to their files, and she knew that they were just non-powered human beings who happened to be remarkable in their fields.

"Well, we've got to run. Classes, you know, the professors can't be late."

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you two around," Galia said, waving goodbye.

* * *

Gambit was literally just strolling through the campus, familiarizing himself with his future workplace, when he saw Eli and Kathleen walking out of the impressive administrative building. Eli wasn't smiling like Kathleen was, but she certainly looked pleasant. His neck suddenly felt hot under the collar of his trench coat, which had kept her warm that last Friday. Fighting the urge to call out to get their attention, he just watched her silently, willing her with his mind and hypnotic charm to notice him first. It was working, he could feel it. She stopped mid-smile in her conversation with Kathleen, and her head slowly turned in his direction. The look on her face was purely instinct, as if some unknown force was compelling her to look for him. Her pretty mouth opened slightly in, first, surprise and recognition, then second, a little embarrassment.

Then abruptly, a shrill siren pierced through the air as an ambulance made its way toward Stark University Hospital, and Remy's spell over Eli broke. Her head snapped away from him and looked at the oncoming ambulance just in time to stop Kathleen from stepping into the street as it whizzed before them. The ambulance caused such alarm that even Remy couldn't keep his eyes from following it as it headed toward the hospital. Once he looked back at the two ladies, they were walking in another direction away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

* * *

"What is it?" Dr. Abhinaya Narayanan asked. The unconscious figure on the operating table before her had mostly normal human anatomy: arms, legs, hair, a face. But as she shoved her gloved hands in between his limp lips to open his mouth, she saw the glint of fangs. The thing's whole body was covered in smooth blue fur, except for its belly, which, to Abhinaya's inappropriate amusement, had a very human-looking eight-pack. Dr. McCoy opened the patient's eyes, revealing blank, almond-shaped yellow eyes. Its ears were pointed, there were only two tapered fingers on its hands besides the opposable thumb, and a long tail hung limp from its coccyx. Large splashes of blood decorated its strange clothing, a dark maroon and black body suit. With some effort, the five doctors in the O.R. cut through the material and peeled the cloth away from its matted, fuzzy skin.

The damage was sickening, but Dr. Narayanan had seen much as one of the attending surgeons at this "superhero hospital," as the students had fondly dubbed it. She immediately identified several patches of severe burns on his right wrist and his ankle. The deep cut ran from its neck the middle of its back, and when one of the doctors lifted its legs, Abhinaya could see that the back of its knees were slashed. One of his feet was burned to an unrecognizable mess. The area under its rib cage pumped purple blood like a disgusting horror movie, and although the patient's face was a dark indigo, it was beginning to look sick despite his unconsciousness.

"Oh. It's a boy," Dr. McCoy said gruffly as he tugged the pants off its legs. Abhinaya glanced at the newly uncovered area, which looked human and male enough. But her attention was on the massive amount of blood the thing was losing. She pointed at the thing's face. "Are those acid burns?"

McCoy took a closer look. "Yes, I think they are."

"We've gotta operate. He won't make it if we don't act fast."

"But what are we going to do?" McCoy asked, sticking an I.V. needle into its arm. Abhinaya could tell her coworker was praying he had hit a vein. She thought quickly. There was one procedure the Board at the hospital had discussed briefly. Although she wished she had a more assuring resolution for this surgery, there wasn't much else that could be done.

"Get the suit parts."

"Dr. Narayanan?" one of the nurses said nervously. Of course, she had no idea what she was talking about.

"Move out of the way, greenhorn," McCoy said, pushing past the young blonde nurse toward a steel cabinet that was tucked discreetly into the corner of the operating room. "If you're not going to be useful, get the hell out of here."

He grabbed several parts of the disassembled Iron Man suits and placed them on the operating table next to Dr. Narayanan's tools. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"No...but there's nothing else we can do. This is the only option that has any chance of saving him," she answered. The rest of the room waited with bated breath as the orthopedic surgeon removed the damaged foot from the end of the patient. Dr. Narayanan inhaled deeply in her mind to calm her adrenalin and steady her hands before she began to attach the metal foot to the patient's ankle. McCoy quickly cauterized the area as she finished and moved onto the next damaged body part.

"One of you lumps move your ass and stop the bleeding from his torso, goddamn it!" he snapped at the rest of the doctors who just stood by as Dr. Narayanan slowly transformed the formerly doomed patient into a real-life cyborg.

She was getting near the worst parts, and the other doctors could see the panic creep into her eyes. "Someone get the chief, _right now_," she ordered, her voice rising from distress. Abhinaya had no idea how to approach this part of the body, being an orthopedic surgeon. The Chief of Surgery at Stark University Hospital was a world-renowned plastic surgeon who restored Iceman's frosty skin after his infamous battle with Pyro several years earlier. Even though Iceman had vanquished his longtime rival, he sustained massive skin injuries, and Tony Stark had him flown rapidly to Stark University Hospital just so he could be operated on by the plastic surgeon Tony had picked especially for her expertise with supernatural beings.

The doctor who had fled to retrieve the chief quickly returned, panting.

"What's going on?" the Chief demanded. She was young, only twenty-seven years-old, a true testament to her skill. Her short black hair was contained in a scrub cap that was embroidered with her initials S.C. Standing at only 5'4", she was only a few inches taller than Dr. Narayanan. Her large, Asian eyes were alert, vibrant, and a little sardonic above the edge of her surgical mask. Her confident presence was enough to calm the rest of the doctors.

"Chief, I need you to graft the metal chest plate to the patient's rib cage, and that bit of the Iron Man mask to the head where the acid is eating away at its skin."

The Chief didn't waste any time. She grabbed the Iron Man suit parts and got to work, issuing directions to the rest of the doctors. As everyone set about to their assigned job, she spoke to Dr. Narayanan.

"I would have thought you would be able to handle this, as making Iron Man cyborgs of dying patients was your idea."

"Yes, Chief. I thought more suited hands would increase the patient's chance of survival."

"Your lack in confidence in yourself disturbs me, Dr. Narayanan," the Chief said calmly. "I'm certain you would've been able to do this yourself."

"Yes, Chief. I'll learn from you how to do it now."

"Excellent idea, Dr. Narayanan. Cauterize this area, please, I'm done. And for God's sake, someone cover up that anterior region. It's distracting me," the Chief ordered. A doctor draped a cloth over the blue figure's hips.

The Chief took the upper part of the Iron Man mask, the only piece of suit left, and she carefully fitted it to the patient's face before she began to burn it on. The other doctors had removed the decaying and eroded flesh to slow the acid's burning, and Dr. Narayanan's theory was that the indestructible material of the Iron Man suit would stop the acid's progress altogether. The gold of the mask contrasted with the patient's blue skin. Slowly, the Chief began to merge the edge of the mask onto the face. Everyone else in the O.R., even McCoy, stood completely still, as if making any sort of motion would mess her up.

"Almost done," the Chief said, keeping her eyes on her work. "He's going to make it."

The whole room exhaled in relief. Everyone was smiling at each other gratefully. The tight knot in Dr. Narayanan's gut unwound. The procedure had been a success. And her theory was correct--as the Chief finished grafting the gold-colored adamantium metal onto the face, the skin around it began to look more stable. Whatever this creature was, he had resilience that wasn't human.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

"_Holy shit_!" the Chief exclaimed as the yellow eyes looked at her in shock and confusion. The doctors jumped back as the creature flexed his three-fingered hands and three-toed feet and found that he could move. He sat upright, bending his new torso in one unnatural motion. The unfamiliar faces seemed to upset him even more.

"Calm down, sir, calm down!" Dr. Narayanan shouted. Her raised voice didn't have any kind of soothing effect on him whatsoever. The blue creature began to jabber quickly in German, swinging his head in every direction to figure out where he was.

"_WHY DID NO ONE ADMINISTER ANESTHESIA?_" the Chief demanded, having given up trying to subdue the patient. The creature looked at her because of her authoritative tone. He pulled out the I.V. and ripped off the leads that had connected him to the monitor.

"Wo bin ich? _Wo bin ich_?" he demanded in German.

"We can't understand you," Abhinaya said slowly, holding up her hands to him. "Does anybody in this place speak German?"

"The German language professor across campus would," the Chief answered dryly.

"_Wo bin ich_?" the creature said, jumping off the operating table to his feet. He stumbled immediately from the unfamiliarity of his metal foot, and several gloved hands reached out to push him back onto the table. He seemed to panic even more from the approach of the hands, and closing his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, the cyborg patient disappeared, leaving a cloud of black smoke and the distinct smell of brimstone behind.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" one of the doctors exclaimed after everyone was done coughing.

"After a year, Dr. Laurie," the Chief said, impatiently waving smoke away from her face, "this kind of shit won't surprise you."

* * *

Remy walked into the Interrogation classroom and leaned against the back wall. He saw Kathleen looking at him a few feet away, smirking. She approached him, dressed in heels, a long black leather skirt, and a matching, slightly revealing leather shirt. Remy imagined that on anybody else, the outfit would have looked tacky and ridiculous, he could tell, even being as fashion un-savvy as he was. But on Kathleen, it looked too appropriate. And he could see she was packing heat under her leather jacket.

"Aren't you here to learn, Remy? Why aren't you taking notes?"

"Aren't you supposed to be teaching somewhere?" he combatted, ignoring her question.

"I never plan my classes during Eli's interrogation seminars," she answered.

"Why not? Are they really that interesting?" he asked, making a face. He never was a fan of psychological interrogation techniques. Then again, he'd never had a problem with getting answers since he possessed a supernatural hypnotic charm.

A hypnotic charm that Eli seemed to be immune to.

"Yes, they are. But that's no the reason I come to every one of them."

"...Go on," he prompted.

"One year there was a terrorist undercover as a student here, and he almost set himself off in her classroom when she used him as an example. She'd had an idea of who he was, but didn't want to alarm the other students by revealing that he was a suicide bombing maniac. So she had to shoot him."

"Wait. She didn't want to alarm the students, so she _shot _the student in front of them? _In class_?" Remy asked, befuddled.

"You don't understand. These are students of Iron Man University. Their very first class is how to understand and deal with 'necessary villain murder.' They would've panicked if she hadn't shot him first and explained later."

"Wow," Remy said, turning back to watching Eli explain the slides on the projector. "I didn't want to believe she was that cold."

"You don't know _anything_," Kathleen snapped. He looked back at her in surprise. It was the first time he had seen Kathleen lose her composure. But by the time he was trying to read her face, Kathleen had returned to her cheerful self.

"Explain?"

She sighed in response, and crossed her legs as if that would prepare her for something.

"At the time, she wasn't even completely sure until the moment he lost it and was going to set himself off. Shooting the bastard was an instinctual move, and she's never really gotten over it," she said. The look on her face said that she didn't want Eli to know that she was telling Remy this. "That day shook her more than anything I've ever seen. And she and I have been through a lot together."

He looked back at Eli, this little woman who fascinated him. She was wearing black again, her long hair pulled back into a high ponytail that swung from her head like a whip. She laser-pointed at a picture of an interrogation technique where the victim was hung from his wrists behind his back. Remy felt a swell of something in his chest for her as she explained the illogicality of this technique as if it was common sense. Eli looked at Kathleen briefly, and Remy thought he saw her make eye-contact with him, but she was looking back at her slides before he could blink or verify.

"So...I come to her classes just in case something like that ever happens again. Unlike Eli, I have no problem shooting terrorists," Kathleen said with a little bit of pride and bitterness. "She just needs to tell me which one might be the little bitch."

Remy nodded his head. It made sense to him.

"Don't get me wrong," Kathleen continued suddenly. "It's not the shooting that bothers her. She can shoot just fine. It's just that she's that kind of person who'd rather shoot to injure and cripple and torture, you know, 'don't kill them, because then it ends and they don't suffer anymore' kind of thing? Eli has never wanted to shoot to kill. Except..."

Remy waited for Kathleen to continue, and when she didn't, he didn't feel like pressing it. Kathleen looked guilty, as if she had said too much.

Kathleen wanted to tell him everything because she knew that if Remy knew the psychological goings-on that made Eli who she was, he would love her more than his former wife. She had obtained Remy's ex-wife's identity from Tony, texting him the question directly and succinctly. He answered without question. When it came to getting these two together, Tony and Kathleen were definitely allies.

She watched as Remy listened to Eli's lecture with rapt attention. The corners of his mouth turned down as he saw her flinch at the picture of water-boarding. What really baffled him was why this woman, who didn't have much of a stomach for gruesome things, would choose a profession that involved her in torture practices.

"You know," Kathleen began, examining his face intently. "When you find out why she's so serious about her work, you'll really love her."

Remy wasn't so sure. He didn't want another damaged woman, like Marie had been. Damaged equaled insecure and unstable. It didn't help that she seemed to put her work before everything else in her life, except for maybe her friend Kathleen. Remy had needs, and at this point, looking at Eli debunk water-boarding stoically, he wasn't sure Eli could satisfy him. He wasn't sure she had enough experience for him. Marie had been a tigress in the bedroom, despite her pitfalls in public. Eli looked about as experienced as a nun.

But he was still so taken with her.

* * *

Galia sat at her desk, processing messages and organizing files. She typed quickly with her left hand while forking pieces of vanilla cheesecake with her right. Yes, she was working during the hour that was supposed to be her break, but the vanilla cheesecake the dining hall lady brought her was making everything okay.

"Mr. Warren Worthington III, a new employee...," she said absently to herself as she filed the new aerospace professor's information. Holding up his picture that would go on the Stark University website, she examined his face. "Attractive."

The cheesecake was so good, she was eating it slowly so it would last the whole hour. The next tiny bite was about to go into her mouth when a loud "_bamf_" shook the room, making her scream.

Being an employee at a school founded by a superhero, she was used to most things. Whole buildings coming down in one sweep of a misfired rocket. Young men clumsily flying for the first time with flight stabilizers above campus. She had even seen the minority of humanoids that had recently enrolled in the school walking around in a band like the Rat Pack. But this sound and the flash of black smoke, the strong whiff of brimstone, was so out of place and unexpected. And during was her _break_, too.

The sight in front of her registered slowly. Galia didn't really know what it was. It wasn't until the thing swiveled its head to take in its surroundings that she made out the top from bottom. It was a man. Sort of.

It was blue, and looked furry. Its pointy ears stuck out underneath his black hair. Its yellow eyes blinked several times in his daze. It had appeared in the middle of the air and fallen a few feet onto the ground, where it rubbed its behind in pain. Galia could see that he only had three fingers on each hand and three toes on each foot.

And that was completely naked except for patches of metal on his skin.

And then she realized that those pieces of metal were supposed to be his skin as well.

It was like some kind of alien cyborg. She couldn't tell its gender, or what it wanted, so she just sat in her chair, completely still, the forkful of cheesecake still a few centimeters away from her face.

"Fich, mein arsch," it muttered, still massaging its butt. Galia guessed it was a guy because its voice vibrated low in its lean chest, and sounded definitely male. Not to mention protruding appendage hanging in between his legs. He didn't seem to notice her, so she abruptly stood up from her desk.

He, whatever he was, jumped back in surprise. His almond eyes were wide as they stared at her. Galia flushed as she realized that his gaze was traveling in a southern direction, and he seemed to soak in every inch of her.

"Who are you?" she asked slowly. She was pretty sure that he had just said some choice German swearwords, so she hoped he could understand English. The thing didn't react immediately. His head looked downward--he must have felt some sort of breeze in its nether regions. A mortified cry came out of his throat, and he struggled to cover up.

Galia took President Volker's long coat off of the coat hanger and offered it to him. She tried not to look, but it was pretty prominent in her peripheral vision. He blushed just as she did. Instead of wrapping the entire coat around him, he just wrapped it around his waist. This only made Galia focus on the lean arm muscles that he flexed unconsciously as he held the coat tightly in place.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

He looked around himself. He looked outside the glass doors, where students hadn't noticed him appear in the building. It was a few seconds more before he spoke.

"My name is Kurt Wagner," he answered in a thick German accent. "But in deh Bavarian circus I vas deh incredible Nightcrawler."

"Kurt. That's easy enough," Galia said to herself. As she took a closer look at him, she saw that he had metal on his face, and a part of a chest plate starting on his pectorals and stopping just above his eight-pack of abs. One of his forearms was completely sheathed in more red metal, and one his feet was completely bionic. His prehensile tale, which writhed behind him, had a gold, spearhead shaped piece of metal on the end. The weight of the metal didn't seem to bother him, and just as she was, he seemed to be noticing the metallic parts of him for the first time.

"Vut happened to me?" he wondered aloud. He sounded a little dismayed.

"I don't know."

Galia began to recognize the metal parts of Kurt to be exactly like an Iron Man suit. If Dr. Hank McCoy's clone shaved and gene-spliced with an Iron Man, Galia thought, this would be the result.

"Who are _you_?" Kurt asked. "Where am I?"

"I'm Galia. I'm the secretary of the administrative office, which is this building," she answered patiently. "You're at the Stark University campus, in Malibu, California."

"Malibu?" he repeated.

"Yes."

All of a sudden, a deep rumble erupted from Kurt's stomach. He rubbed his two fingers and opposable thumb over it.

"Uhhgh. I don't think I have eaten in days. Maybe veeks," he said.

Galia cleared off the papers on her desk.

"Come sit here."

"On deh desk?"

"Yes," she insisted. He still looked defiant. "Just do it!"

Kurt obeyed, adjusting the coat so that it was draped over his broad shoulders and still covered up his private parts. He approached the desk carefully, his legs bending more like an animal's than a humans. His legs were incredibly muscled, from what Galia could see sticking out from under the coat, which seemed shorter around the lean, tall Kurt Wagner. In one fluid motion, he jumped onto the desk. His back curved as he crouched, as if his spine was more flexible than a humans.

"Oh-kay. I am on deh desk now," he said. He looked curious and confused.

"Here," she said, holding out the rest of her cheesecake to him. But Kurt just stared at it.

".....Vut is it."

"It's cheesecake. It's really good," she said. Taking the fork, she scooped a bite and held it out to him. Extending his neck, he clamped his teeth over the fork and ate it. Galia saw the flash of his fangs. Kurt chewed slowly, swallowed, and licked his lips.

"Dat was delicious!" he cried. When she held the plate out to him, he tried to take it from her, but his hands were shaking too much. He tried to flex his right hand, but the metal around his forearm seemed to be doing something to his muscles. He suddenly became very nervous again, baring his teeth and hissing.

"I'll feed it to you," Galia said, assuaging his nervousness. Bite after bite, she fed him cheesecake, and he ate it like a baby bird.

"So what are you?"

Kurt swallowed before he answered. His breath smelled like cheesecake when he spoke.

"I don't know. I have been told I am a demon."

She offered him the last bite of cheesecake. "I don't think you're a demon."

Kurt surprised her by taking the fork unsteadily with his left hand and offered the cheesecake to her instead.

"I'm sorry I ate your....'cheesecake.'"

Galia placed a hand over Kurt's around the fork to help him hold it steady. After eating the last bite on the fork, she chewed, swallowed, and smiled.

* * *

Berthold Volker was looking for somebody, and no matter how long it took him to find this person, he was going to stay. So the little boy staring at him was going to be very bored.

"Do you need something, little boy?" he asked, turning his face to stare right back at the child. The precocious little thing just stood there for a few seconds before saying anything.

"Why do you have a scar on your face like Frankenstein?"

Volker's face twisted into a forced smile. The semi-circle scar that peeked out from under his hair when he didn't comb it over did make him look like he had been patched together, but normally people took care to not point it out.

"I was in a little accident."

The little boy just stood there with this unnervingly perceptive expression on his face. Berthold tried to ignore him, but he could see the boy's outline in his peripheral vision. Eventually he skipped away, bored with the scowling man.

Every once in a while Berthold looked at the door labeled "Employess Only." His muscles tensed in anticipation whenever the door opened, and it took a little more than twenty of these instances to occur before the man he wanted to see walked into the exhibit.

Hiroyuki Kanegawa was abnormally tall. His black blue hair was slicked back, showing off a large forehead, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows. His face was generic but at the same time had a hardness to it that suggested people should get out of his way. There was nothing about him that gave away his position as museum curator, and he quietly observed the museum goers that decided to visit his exhibits in their free time.

Berthold decided that enough time had been wasted. In several long strides he was in front of the man. Hiro, a man who wasn't surprised by anything, just looked down his nose at this white man.

"Mr. Kanegawa."

"Am I supposed to know you?"

The question had its implications. Weeks ago, Berthold had had the chance to email Hiro and tell him what he was going to tell him in person, but decided against the electronic messaging. But Hiro wasn't ignorant of legends. It was obvious he knew the rumors about his past.

"My name is Berthold Volker. I'm the President of Stark University."

"Are you German?"

Hiro's questions seemed to be answering all of Berthold's.

"Yes, I am."

The Japanese man's mind could slice through any bullshit Berthold might have made the mistake of pulling out. Like a magic trick, Hiroyuki flipped a business card out of thin air.

"I've read much about you, Mr. Volker. My card…"

It seemed Berthold didn't need to say anything. Hiro was much smarter than he thought he would be, which was an advantageous development.

Everything was going above and beyond well.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

"Chief, we've apprehended the patient."

"Good. Bring him back _now_," came the Chief's voice into her ear. Dr. Narayanan and a group of other doctors had been scouring the campus for hours. They finally found him in the administrative building with the President of the university's secretary Galia.

The look on its face when he saw them through the transparent glass walls was heartbreaking, like a prisoner whose time talking through a window was up. As the group of doctors pushed through the doors, he just clutched the long coat around him and put a dignified expression on his face. He allowed Dr. McCoy to restrain him and lead him out.

Galia looked confused.

"What just happened, Dr. Narayanan?"

"We don't know if that thing is a terrorist or an assassin. He also needs medical attention immediately. That's all you need to know."

The secretary didn't look satisfied with this answer.

"You really don't have anything to worry about, Galia," she added. "If it's clean, then we'll release it and it can do whatever it wants, and by the looks of things, it'll want to come back here."

"_It _has a name. Kurt Wagner, and a gender. _He's _a perfectly safe, good person."

"Duly noted, Galia. Have a good day."

She wouldn't answer. Abhinaya hated this part of her job. Sure, there were rewarding aspects to working at a superhero hospital. But it was hard to disassociate human needs and emotions from a tall, lanky, furry, _blue _anthropomorphous being. It certainly had a handsome human face, and apparently a gender, according to Galia. And Abhinaya was one of the few employees at the university, being one of the few females, that was in the know—the know that Galia was not just made of typing and organizing. Galia had graduated with high honors from a prestigious California university, majoring in Biological engineering. Thus, she was perfectly qualified to judge biological aspects about the blue creature. Abhi had always been amused by how the females at Stark University were always the top in their field, the most successful, and the most beautiful. Even Abhi, with her thick, wavy black hair and large dark brown doe eyes with long lashes, had been complimented by a blushing male student while he was on the gurney, of all times to pay compliments to a lady. While she had never had to treat the few female professors, she had heard plenty about them from various patients who passed through the halls of her hospital.

The blue creature didn't indicate if he could understand what Dr. McCoy was saying to him. He just stared blankly ahead, the metal parts of his body clanking as he walked lankily back to the hospital. From their experience in the operating room, Abhi and McCoy were both fully aware that this thing could get away if he wanted to in a rapid flash of foul-smelling black smoke. The very fact that he didn't caused McCoy to exercise a measure of leniency.

"We're just going to run some tests on you. Do you understand English?"

The blue thing blinked and nodded.

"Do you have a name?"

"Kurt Wagner," the creature said in a thick German accent.

"Mr. Wagner, we're just going to run some tests, examine your DNA, and make sure you're alright. It seems that your body is accepting the changes," McCoy said, keeping a hand clasped around Kurt's muscular upper arm. "This armor is made of adamantium, and is therefore indestructible. However, that doesn't mean you're allowed to crash about like an oaf and throw yourself into trouble. Your body is only part Iron Man armor and the exposed human parts are still susceptible to damage."

Out of the corner of her eye, Abhi saw Kurt pull the coat more firmly over his crotch.

"Dr. McCoy, the first order of business is to find the patient some clothes."

* * *

Ellie tried to make sense of the pictures of the Nazi swastika that stared back at her from her desk but her mind was unusually elsewhere. Everything brought back thoughts on that rakish-looking scoundrel who had recently been recruited to status of one of her work colleagues. Because she was a woman of strict routine, schedule, and rules—she even took a shower at the same time every day—she highly disliked this man's lackadaisical manner and apparent arrogance, as well as his probably unjustified confidence in his ability to be charming. Yet there _was_ something really charismatic about the way he captivated her. It was almost as if he was controlling her attentions. Ellie absolutely hated the feeling.

There was no doubt that he was attractive. Remy LeBeau was attractive in the way all rogues were attractive—he had an animal magnetism that made her lose her inhibitions and want to strip him of his clothes and see if he actually was human beneath all the superhero hype that surrounded him. Remy LeBeau certainly didn't have the appearance of someone who could detonate anything with the sheer kinetic energy contained in his body, as well as the ability to charge everything with a force that would cause it to be ripped apart in an explosion of unimaginable magnitude. Not to mention her history with men in trench coats was less than stellar. Images of a tall, dashing Asian man in a black trench coat flashed through her mind, and her chest pounded briefly as if someone had tugged on her heart. It had been years since Ellie had relinquished any emotionality in her person in favor of herculean work ethic and steel-cold logic, but deep down she knew that she could keep telling herself that all she was feeling was hormones and it meant nothing—in the end, it still didn't feel all that great. She'd had enough heartbreak from roguish super humans.

Ellie couldn't help but heave a sigh. Ever since her promiscuous days during her teens, she had taken a solemn vow of celibacy, dedicating her energy to her work as opposed to maintaining relationships. For her first year of college, she had focused so much on doing well that she had only one friend, and that was because she had been required to work with this person for a project for one of her language classes. After the school year ended, she halted any effort to keep talking to this person, and their friendship had decayed into a bitter mutual avoidance.

Ever since she had met Kathleen, her life attitude had been slowly changing. Instead of ignoring human contact and shying away from public functions, she made an effort—a small one, but an effort nonetheless—to go to faculty mixers and receptions and dinners and to maintain relationships with people she met. It definitely helped that Kathleen was always there with her, for if her friend was not there, she became a wallflower. It was like she was eight years-old all over again.

As much as she respected and appreciated Kathleen, her tendency to push Ellie toward men, especially Remy LeBeau, was unsettling. It wasn't that she didn't want to be in a relationship. It was more like she didn't want to be in a relationship for love. Her love had always been based on a man's qualifications—in other words, if he was a good candidate for mating, then she loved him for it. Even though Kathleen seemed to be unfazed my Ellie's strange, scientific approach to intimate relationships, their attitudes toward men were very different. But if there was one thing Ellie had learned her whole life, it was that the best friendships are based on differences, not similarities.

* * *

Stephanie, genius biologist, was working as an event planner for the Stark University Board of Trustees while lingering in the void between promotion and resignation. For someone in her situation, she had to keep a low profile, and climbing too high in the hierarchy would put a spotlight on her that wouldn't be ideal.

But planning a reception for the Director of the Iron Man Unit was like rapidly scraping a cheese grater against her forehead. Her IQ and her skills as a biologist, not to mention other things, were going completely to waste in this position. But for now there was nothing she could do except order more bottles of champagne, find a venue, and send out invitations.

She did an excellent job of hiding her frustration. Her job paid very well, and it was good for networking, but she couldn't help feeling like her life was going nowhere. Stephanie walked toward the Administrative building while typing out an invitation email that she would mass-send. Not only was she severely underused, but also she was quite abused. She'd have to thank Galia later for notifying her only a few hours in advance about the Director's arrival.

"Galia!"

The President's secretary jerked out of her work-induced reverie.

"Oh, hello, Stephanie."

"Why do I get a few hours to plan a reception for the most important man in the Iron Man Unit? Why is he coming?"

"You know that's confidential," Galia said apologetically as she continued typing. Stephanie pressed the send button on her phone, waiting for the ping to come from Galia's computer that notified her of a new email.

"An email invitation? _Classy_."

"Yeah, thank you so much for giving me about three hours notice. I think I deserve to know why the Director's coming," Stephanie said, examining her nails casually. "It takes a lot to bring him out of D.C."

Galia sighed. The two women often commiserated on their tough jobs, and she had done enough background checks on Stephanie to know that she wasn't a threat. She was just a harmless event planner that was very over-qualified for her job. Seemingly.

"I really would like to, but I can't tell you," Galia said. She lowered her voice. "Apparently…trouble."

"_What?"_

"I don't know," Galia replied. "But apparently it's really bad. All the professors got memos about it."

"Like bad how?"

"That's enough."

The President's door had been flung open. President Volker stood in the doorway, glaring at his secretary. Stephanie had only ever seen him from a distance, and had never realized how tall and _white _this man looked. His bright blue eyes blazed angrily as he stared daggers at Galia.

"Galia, you're coming with me to meet the Director at the reception."

And without another word, he disappeared back in his office. Galia gave Stephanie a regretful curve of her pink lips. "I guess I'll be seeing you tonight."

Saying goodbye to her fellow underappreciated, overworked colleague, she left through the large glass doors. As she exited the building, two women entered. Perhaps it was the fact that female sightings were so uncommon on campus. But that was the superficial reason for why Stephanie couldn't help but stop as these two women passed and take a good look at them. There was something in the disposition of the smaller, Asian one—something dangerous that gave her goose bumps. At first glance, her small face was expressionless; but on closer inspection, Stephanie saw something as chilling as ice chips in her warm brown eyes. She wore tight black pants, a loose, pirate-style white shirt. The Asian woman didn't look evil, but there was something about the way she carried herself that put Stephanie on her guard.

Her companion, who towered over her, was a bombshell of a woman, so gorgeous that Stephanie, who was as straight as a heterosexual person could get, had to admit this woman seemed to be too pretty to be on a campus of war-hardened veterans-turned-professors and armored soldiers in training. Her perfectly styled hair billowed behind her as she entered Galia's office. She wore tight, dark-wash skinny jeans and knee-high black boots, not to mention two thigh holsters that both held guns a la Lara Croft. Over a bright red tanktop, she wore a black leather jacket that barely hid another gun, a .44 magnum holstered on her left. This woman turned back to look at Stephanie and raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow, as if to say, "What are _you_ lookin' at?"

Stephanie turned away and started heading toward the Fury Hall, where the reception would be held. She didn't have time to stare at intimidating, strange women who seemed out of place, not that _she _herself really belonged on campus. All around her students, mostly male with perhaps one in fifty being female, studied vigorously, noses buried in their books. Occasionally one would look up as she walked by, puzzled by the presence of a female who wasn't between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, but quickly turned back to their notes or to practicing whatever hand-to-hand combat they had learned that day. At the moment, seeing these young faces hard at work, she couldn't remember why she was there. Stark University was a fortress, with a faculty of the best experts in their respective fields, not to mention an army of young Iron Men-in-training who, from the very moment they stepped on campus, were prepared for combat. It was obvious that she wasn't needed there, but a vague hunch at the back of her mind prompted her to stay in her job that basically entailed that she plan parties. A biologist who graduated at the top of her class from UC Berkeley, had an IQ that could probably bend spoons, and she wasn't even needed. Her skills were being wasted, but there was nothing she could do about it except acquire bottles of champagne and hire a string quartet for the reception.

* * *

To some people, he was just James Rhodes. To others, he was James Rhodes, Director of the Iron Man Unit, War Machine, and Iron Man's best friend in terms of being armored superheroes. And to Tony Stark, the main benefactor and original Iron Man, he was "Rhodey," a close friend, and one of the few men in the world he would trust to be the Director of the world's Iron Men.

It kind of pained him that a man of his rank and power had to resort to suspending one of his officers in a crowded, public setting so as to avoid her wrath. He was not immune to Elizabeth Chau's powers of intimidation even though he was her superior, but he knew that she was too logical to create a public scene.

James even felt a little bad that the University was throwing him such a lavish reception when all he had come to do was suspend somebody. The week before, his office had received an anonymous communiqué detailing Professor Chau's relations to the Asia Unified Organized Crime Syndicate, including a thorough report of her business—and carnal—relation with its leader Ja Fahr. Elizabeth, whose AUOCS code name was Hong Bai Lan for her American citizenship, which meant literally "Red White Blue," had been ordered by Ja to kill an alleged informant from the Mahmoud Ahmed terrorist group. It made too much sense that the terrorist happened to be out of the AUOCS's jurisdiction, and Elizabeth was definitely brilliant enough to find a way to hit her mark while making it seem like self-defense. However, it seemed she hadn't counted on someone ratting on her. It seemed like her colleagues felt she had become too Americanized, and if _they _didn't rat her out, then Mahmoud Ahmed had every reason to turn her in. This short, little woman had put so many people away; she had a number of enemies who could have sent that communiqué. And it had always been Rhodey's policy to get rid of the risk first, and investigate later.

The pasty-faced president of Stark University walked up to him.

"Hello, Mr. Director. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Mr. Volker. I haven't seen you since…"

"Since the opening of the university, sir."

"Right."

There were a few more awkward seconds before Volker spoke again.

"So I hear that you're in Los Angeles for urgent business?"

"Yes, you heard right. Urgent."

"When do you intend to, uh, attend to this business?"

James looked at this man. Was he a glutton for gossip like a man with ovaries? Why was he asking questions—irrelevant questions—that he probably knew James wouldn't answer? How did this ninny become the president? Tony better not have handpicked this dumbass, Rhodey thought to himself. Knowing Tony, he added to himself, he probably _did_. At the moment Volker expected him to answer (or rather inform him that he wasn't going to reveal the details), a beautiful woman approached them, carrying a clipboard and typing something quickly on her smart phone. She had short, caramel-blonde hair and wore a simple, yet stylish purple dress that flattered her curvy figure. This woman almost looked like a modern Maria from _The Sound of Music_. It always surprised James to find that such attractive women worked at Stark University.

"Mr. Volker, I've just confirmed your meeting with the Board on Sunday and you have a scheduled flight to Langley on Wednesday."

"Yes, thank you, Galia," Volker said impatiently. "Mr. Director, this is my secretary and-or assistant Galia. She is a very efficient worker, and aptly organizes so much about this university…however, if you ever wanted to call me, you can always call me directly instead of going through her. Galia, give the Director my direct contact information later."

Rhodey saw Galia visibly flinch from being called a "worker." This guy was obviously an ass-kissing idiot, but Galia treated him with what almost seemed like fear. It gave Rhodey the impression that behind the closed doors of his office, Volker was a cruel man, and that's how he obtained the position of President of the university.

"Yes, sir."

Rhodey watched with hidden disgust as Volker dismissed Galia like a slave. Tuning out the man's rambling for a few seconds, he watched as Galia joined another shorter woman in a slinky black dress near the punch bowl. The women laughed about something and didn't even try to hide the fact that they were looking over in his direction. Realizing Volker was still talking to him, he snapped back.

"What?"

"There are two of our other female employees, Professor Chau and Professor Mariona."

The little Asian certainly didn't _appear _dangerous. At first. While her companion strutted into the room, chattering away happily, Professor Chau stayed silent. Her black eyes flicked around the room quickly as she soaked in her surroundings. Her eyes lingered for only half a second on Rhodey. It was apparent she suspected nothing. Rhodey excused himself from the President, who showered him with praise one last time before approaching another group. Professor Mariona looked him straight in the face as he approached. Although she was wearing a hot pink number that potentially could literally cause a man to faint from desire or dislocate his jaw as it dropped, her gaze was not seductive—at least not intentionally. Her dress was so short that her gun and its holster were completely visible on her thigh. Smoothly she pulled the holster up while covering the top part with her dress. She sipped her champagne, still looking at Rhodey as she did so. Her unswerving gaze caused Professor Chau to turn around. The Asian woman wasn't drinking anything at all. Originally, Rhodey had planned to carefully let the woman down, glossing over the news carefully. He had spent hours on the plane ride from D.C. formulating what he was going to say. But from the look of the woman, the unreadable expression to the cocktail dress that appeared business-like from her attitude, to the way she stood with her high heels apart planted firmly on the ground, the downward tilt of her eyebrows, and the way she didn't blink once as he headed straight in her direction, Rhodey realized suddenly that a "ripping off the bandaid quickly" approach was more appropriate. _She can take it_, he thought to himself.

"Director," Professor Mariona greeted, raising her bubbling glass to him in salute. "What brings you out of D.C.?"

_You're about to find out_. Feeling slightly bad about ignoring the gorgeous woman, Rhodey addressed Professor Chau.

"Elizabeth Chau, you are hereby suspended for an undetermined amount of time from the Iron Man Unit based on accusations of murder of Mahmoud Adel and treason against your country. While the Iron Men have decided that arresting you and detaining you in federal prison is unnecessary, you are to be confined in the city of Santa Monica until your trial."

It seemed if Elizabeth had been holding a glass of champagne, she would've dropped it at that moment. Instead, Professor Mariona stared at the two of them in horror. Elizabeth's hands twitched; they were the only part of her that moved. Her eyes did not become glassy as he expected they would, but she did seem to be holding back a great deal of upset. _Oh God please don't kill me_, Rhodey thought desperately when he saw her eyes turn from blank to crazy in less than two shakes. But he was suddenly splashed with champagne from another direction. Mariona's glass had broken in her hands from squeezing it so hard. Her mouth was open slightly from surprise, her soft pink lips curved downward in dismay. After this brief distraction, he looked back in Elizabeth's direction but she was gone. He saw her striding toward the door, her right hand clenched in a visibly trembling fist.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Professor Mariona hissed angrily. "Do you feel _clever_, Mr. Director? I'm sure the boys back in D.C. will give you medal for avoiding a scene by breaking that shit at a public gathering. You just accused one the most patriotic women I know of treason. I'm sorry, Director, but if my champagne glass hadn't broken, I would throw it in your face right now."

Leaving a distinct air of fury behind her that made him fear for his life just as much as Professor Chau had, the woman left in a rapid clacking of heels. Rhodey had to take a moment to laugh at the situation. Of course Tony would build a university and find the hottest, most dangerous women to fill it. At the same time, he wondered where Tony was. It wasn't like him to miss a party. Satisfied that he hadn't disturbed the reception too much with his public dismissal of a highly esteemed employee, Rhodey resolved to slip away as soon as he could to find his best friend.

* * *

"Tony! Tony, open the gate, you son of a—"

Kathleen shook the front gate to Tony's mansion. Normally she would have taken the time to admire the scenic, gorgeous, breath-taking view that was the backdrop of Tony Stark's tasteful residence, but at the current moment she was occupied with fixing what seemed to be a horrible, horrible mistake. The broken, shocked look on Elizabeth's face when she heard she was suspended "for an undetermined amount of time" was much too honest for her to actually have committed the crime she was accused of. Elizabeth had just left the reception in a surprised silence, heading to her house—the only place Kathleen had ever known her to take refuge.

The first question that came to Kathleen's mind was why the hell Tony wasn't at the reception for one of the few men he genuinely trusted in the world. The second was how the hell Tony could let this happen. He got the reports, just like everyone else, so unless he just chucked them to the side without reading them (which, Kathleen thought snidely, he very possibly did do), he knew just like the rest of the Iron Man Unit that Elizabeth was the best intelligence analyst in all of the United States when it came to terrorism. There was no way Elizabeth would build up her success just to have it torn down by a little controversy. There was something deeper and more sinister running beneath all of this, and Kathleen needed Tony's help and connections to find out what was naggingly wrong about this situation. She shook the gate a little harder, as if it would do any good. She was still in the hot pink dress she had worn to the Director's reception—although she had years of experience scaling fences, there was no way she was climbing this one.

Kathleen was about to take out her gun and blast the lock off the door when a thin, meek figure started down the long driveway. It was Aldo Malvagio, Tony's mousey little assistant, carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses that were way too large for his thin, olive-skinned face.

"May I help you, miss?"

"Let me in, I need to see Tony Stark."

"Is he expecting you?"

There was something annoyingly insecure about this guy, like he was trying to decide if actually letting her in would get him in trouble with his boss or not. Little did he know that Kathleen was about three seconds away from shooting him in the face if he did not.

"Could I have your name please?"

"Kathleen Mariona. Tony knows me."

"Mr. Stark," Aldo said, emphasizing the title as opposed to the first name, "_knows_ you?"

"Yes. He would want to see me."

"Mr. Stark does not want to be disturbed," Aldo replied, then taking a slow, purposefully pointed looking at her hot pink dress and tall black heels, "and I don't think he hired a hooker."

Kathleen, not only insulted and infuriated by the mousey man's gall, was two blinks away from giving the guy a bullet between the eyes.

"Open the goddamn gate."

The stupid piece of shit hesitated. Kathleen's hand twitched as she steeled herself to reach for her gun, but a voice came across the front lawn that saved his life.

"It's alright, Aldo, let her in," Tony's voice rolled across the ground. Aldo opened the gate, and Kathleen pushed past him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something angry or annoyed flash across the lower part of his face—a brief clench of the lips, or a hardening of the jaw—but she was too far away from him and in a hurry to tell or really care.

Tony was at the bottom of a staircase, wearing a precarious looking towel around his waist, fluffing his hair with a smaller towel. It was obvious that he had just finished a shower; the skin of his bare chest had that clean, glowing quality.

"Kathleen, I saw you in my surveillance screens. How did you know how to get to my place?"

"Everyone knows how to get to Tony Stark's mansion," she said simply. The sight of him wearing only a towel made her temporarily forget why she had come, but the urgency of the mission brought her back to earth quickly. "I need you to help me have a face-to-face with the Director."

"You _need _me?" Tony repeated. The smirk on his face was insufferable yet adorable. His eyes drifted to her legs, and his blatant ogling didn't surprise Kathleen. But then she realized he was staring at the gun strapped to her leg, which had jerked out of its discreet hiding place while she hurried into his home and the hem of her already short dress had hiked up higher. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"That doesn't work in this situation. Tony, I need this. I need you to help me get Elizabeth's job back," Kathleen said. Her face was composed, but she could feel the pleading tone creep into her voice. She took a few steps closer to him so that she felt like they were on equal ground. Even though that couldn't be possible—he didn't have a shirt on _and _he looked wet.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he raised an eyebrow and said, "What's in it for me?"

She resisted the urge to punch him his naked, slightly wet body.

"If you help me try to get Elizabeth her job back, I won't shoot you in the knees," Kathleen replied. She looked and sounded serious. Tony started to look nervous.

"It really means that much to you, doesn't it?"

"It's not about me," Kathleen replied. "It's just wrong to can the Iron Men's chief intelligence officer. This is about the safety of the United States."

A third voice came from behind her. "That much of that kind of power in the wrong hands could be disastrous for this country."

James Rhodes stood at the top of the circular stairs that led to the basement, still wearing the military suit covered in stars and medals and honors in which she had seen him at the reception.

"Director," Kathleen saluted, her voice lowered to a distasteful growl.

"I do regret that I had to suspend your best friend, Professor Mariona, but it was for the safety of this country."

"You kids aren't at school anymore. First-name basis while you're at home," Tony said from the sidelines. "Kathleen, this is Rhodey. Rhodey, this is Kathleen."

"We've met," James said simply. "She was quite a hit at my reception, which you _didn't_ go to."

"Hey, Rhodey, back off. I have dibs."

"I'm right here, Tony," Kathleen reminded him.

"But this is perfect. You wanted to talk to Rhodey, and he wanted to make sure you weren't out for his blood," Tony commented.

"Why don't you put some goddamn pants on," Rhodey suggested. "You take long showers, and I'm uncomfortable around you when you're naked."

It amused Kathleen to see the Director, who had appeared stoic and cold when delivering the suspension to Elizabeth, so agitated. But what Tony said next made _her _flustered, too.

"Kathleen has complete control over my pants. So what do you say—on or off?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Director rolls his eyes. Of course Tony Stark's oldest friend would be familiar with his flirtatious ways. Rhodey had been Tony's friend through his playboy days, through Pepper Potts, and now through whatever he was going through with Kathleen.

"Tony, just put some goddamn pants on," Rhodey said. He directed his attention to Kathleen. "Professor Mariona, your friend Elizabeth was accused of murder and acts of terrorism. The case built against her is very, very strong and very convincing. I'm afraid there's not much I can do to fight this."

"We both read the reports. I was there when she was poring over the report about the 'traitor' within the Iron Man Unit and she didn't think for a second that _she _could have been that person. That has to mean something, right?"

"That's highly likely because she probably thought she'd gotten away with it and they wouldn't suspect her."

"Elizabeth's smart, Rhodey," Tony chimed in. He had returned with pants and a loose T-shirt that had a little hole cut out in it for his miniature arc reactor. "She would've known that what she was doing, _if _she'd done it, was illegal. And I suspect that neurotic little Asian is probably pretty paranoid."

Kathleen could only nod. She knew Ellie way too well to deny that she was paranoid. In more cases than one, her paranoia had saved her a lot of trouble. But Rhodey focused on another part of what Tony said.

"What do you mean, '_if _she'd done it'?"

Kathleen could feel her heart rate speed up. The calculating look on Tony's face betrayed his knowledge of the truth about the day the Mahmoud Ahmed terrorist was shot in class. Even though she'd wanted to talk to the Director to tell him the truth herself (because it would change _everything_), it kind of bothered her that Tony figured out something that Elizabeth and she had hid so well.

"I think Kathleen should tell you herself," Tony finally said. Looking at Kathleen, "I mean, that is the reason you wanted to talk to him right?"

"Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

"Even though I sometimes act like one, I'm not a dumbass."

"What the fuck is going on? What aren't you two telling me? If there's information relevant to this country's security, I need to know it _now_," Rhodey said impatiently.

She sighed, and prepared herself to reveal a secret that was bound to come out eventually.

"I shot the terrorist, not Ellie."

Rhodey looked absolutely stunned.

"Do you mean to tell me this country has a faulty record?" Rhodey said slowly. "I fired—."

"Suspended," Tony corrected.

"—The top intelligence analyst in the United States because of a dumbshit _lie_? Why the hell did you guys fake the reports? You exploited your credibility for personal gain!"

"Cool it, Rhodey. That's my girl you're yelling at."

"Tony, shut the fuck up. Professor Mariona, explain yourself."

"She changed the reports after the incident. Believe me, I didn't know about it until everything was filed and set in stone. She didn't want me to risk my job because I hadn't been granted tenure yet and hadn't earned my license to terminate. And she was completely sure that the student was a terrorist from the Mahmoud Ahmed. By the time I found out what she had done about the reports, fixing that tiny detail, which we both thought was unimportant, would've caused only damage."

"I don't understand—you had a room full of witnesses who saw you shoot this man, an _alleged _terrorist, and nobody questioned the report?"

"She had pointed the gun, but the bullet came from me. She never pulled a trigger. Everyone thought she had."

"And there weren't any surveillance cameras to confirm that she had—or _hadn't_—done this?"

"Nope," Tony answered. "I don't allow cameras to record my professors. There could be an undercover terrorist who gets his hands on what the country's leading security experts are teaching their best soldiers, and we would be screwed from behind before we even knew what went wrong."

The significance of the example he used was not lost on Rhodey. It made sense; Tony's anti-surveillance policy forces the terrorists to go under-cover as actual students, which were the easiest way to infiltrate the university. Everything that Tony and Kathleen were revealing supported the assertion that Elizabeth was, first of all, not a double agent for the AUCS, and as a result, not guilty of committing murder on United States soil.

"You know…you and Tony would make a good couple," Rhodey said with a hint of exasperation. "Both of y'all seem to be really good at making my life _very _difficult."

Rhodey then left them to go outside and make the necessary phone calls to reinstate Elizabeth at the university and within the Iron Men. Kathleen and Tony were left alone. She wanted to thank him. It wasn't until the Director left that Kathleen realized how Tony's presence had facilitated her confession. Hopefully there weren't going to be repercussions. When she turned to face him, she saw him staring at her legs again.

"Your dress is riding up," he pointed out matter-of-factly. Her head snapped down to see that her hot pink dress was riding up, so much so that her gun was fully visible. Even though nothing inappropriate was showing, Kathleen suddenly felt hot under her skin. A strange twisty feeling developed in her abdomen as she pulled her dress down. Although her legs were covered more, her whole dress had been pulled down, and the top swell of her breasts bulged slightly in a very Jessica Rabbit style. This didn't escape Tony's notice at all—she saw his eyes flick upwards from her legs, and his pupils dilate rapidly. The hot feeling under her skin only intensified. They both jumped in surprise when Rhodey returned noisily.

"Y'all are coming since you made this trouble for me," he said exasperatedly.

* * *

Remy had heard the news as it circulated slowly and discreetly among the staff of Stark University. Elizabeth, Chair of the Intelligence and Interrogation department, squeaky-clean record and history of success in her area of expertise, was being suspended for moral misconduct and high treason. _Bullshit _was the first word that came to mind. Without thinking, he headed over to the parking garage, revved his motorcycle into movement, and sped down the campus road toward the exit. He didn't know for sure if Elizabeth had gone home, but that was the first place he was going to look.

He imagined the respectable people who were Elizabeth's neighbors wouldn't appreciate the roar of his motorcycle as it nearly screamed down their street. But he couldn't care less. He could apologize for embarrassing her later. As he pulled his beloved motorcycle to a gentle stop outside of Elizabeth's house, he saw one of her neighbors, a young woman with platinum blonde hair, look up from the planter of flowers she was watering, her bright blue eyes following him even as he dismounted from his bike and headed up to Elizabeth's door.

After a brisk knock and a ring, the door slowly opened. Elizabeth stood there, not wearing a black tailored suit or pumps, carrying a briefcase with her hair in a high ponytail, but in a black and red kimono (an unbelted, _open _black and red kimono) with what looked like a black negligee and red shorts under it. With one hand she held the heavy oak door open while her other hand was balancing a bowl of chocolate pudding. A spoon hung out of her mouth, and her eyes, while dry and wide with surprise, were ringed with black eyeliner that had run down her face in tracks as if she'd been crying. Looking past her into the house, Remy could see a whole spread of foods on her coffee table in front of the television.

"Having a party, ma cher?" he asked. "And you didn't invite me?" His broad hand pushed the door open wider. She let go, and took the spoon out of her mouth.

"I'm not an Iron Man anymore. I don't have to represent them—_you_, anymore…what are you doing here?"

"Don't I get a 'hello, Remy'?"

She only stared at him.

"I heard about your suspension."

Elizabeth sighed. "Come in."

He entered at her bidding. The inside of her house was dimly lit. Most of her furniture was very classic. Her dinner table was small, and there was a messy mountain of papers on it. A large Chinese ink painting hung on the opaque, dark brown wall, and upon closer inspection, Remy saw that there were actually a lot of a Chinese fengshui enhancers dotting her house. A medium-sized jade happy Buddha was perched on a counter in her kitchen, and while normally a huge statue of a fat, dark green Asian guy with long, drooping earlobes would be incredibly tacky, this particular Buddha was subtle and appropriate. A movie was playing on her television—_True Lies_. It was the scene where Helen was doing a striptease for Harry who she believed was actually a criminal arms dealer.

"So the news spread that quickly, did it?"

Remy just shrugged. He trained his eyes on her and didn't say anything for several long seconds.

"What?"

"I just didn't pin you as the kimono-night-slip-pudding type."

"I'm allowed to act however I want when I've been fired."

"_Suspended_."

"I may as well have been fired. 'Moral _and _legal misconduct.' "

"Elizabeth—"

"Don't," she interrupted, setting her bowl of pudding on the coffee table. "I don't want pity. If I made a mistake, I need to face the consequences. No matter how questionable the circumstances."

"So you think it's a load of crap, too?"

She didn't answer his question.

"At least the Director didn't put you in federal prison…from what the report said, what you did was nothing less than cold-blooded murder. That's not even taking the treason into account."

Remy avoided eye-contact with her, knowing that it would just provoke her more than he already was, and he'd probably end up dead, and somehow Elizabeth would find a way to transport him to ancient Rome and he'd end up in some random mass burial or as a human sacrifice to the mighty god Ra in ancient Egypt. At the very least, though, he expected her to defend her actions with mind-blowing logic, so he was a little surprised when she didn't immediately say anything vehemently. After a few silent seconds, he looked at her.

"I didn't do it," she said so softly that he was unsure that she had said anything at all. Remy stared at her intently, but she refused to look at him and instead spooned a huge blob of pudding into her mouth. It was apparent she wasn't going to say anything to elaborate on the matter.

"Do you have some sort of nickname I can call you? 'Elizabeth' is a bit of a mouthful for a Cajun like me."

"If you can't say the name, then maybe you shouldn't talk to me."

It was a snippy yet logical reply.

"I think I'll call you 'Lizzie.' It fits you."

"Remy, I'm not a pet you can name."

"_Au contraire_, _ma cher." _

Suddenly he was slammed against the back of her couch. His knees bent over the side of the soft sofa, the cushions of which molded into the back of his legs and made his body bend at an even more unnatural angle. Elizabeth stood over him, her arm extended to his neck, where she clasped the pressure points of his throat. In spite of the dangerous situation he was in, he couldn't help but notice that her knee, which was bent forward to give her more balance, was slightly touching his groin.

"Don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction?" he asked, raising his hands in surrender.

"Don't you think you should learn to respect women?"

"Actually, I respect you quite a bit more than other women."

Her face was a stony mask of barely-veiled dislike, but after a few seconds and a clench of her lips, she let go of him. He rubbed his suddenly sore neck muscles as he straightened.

"Pressure points. I'd expect that from you, not kimonos."

"If not this, then what? What do _you _expect me to wear when I'm at home?"

In Remy's fantastic mind, he actually imagined her in barely-there underwear, and at times nothing at all. However, he didn't want to risk getting the blood flow cut off from his brain again.

"And it's not a _kimono_. Get your Asian ethnicities right," she added when he didn't say anything. "_Kathleen _wears a kimono. My _mom _wears a kimono. These are just unbuttoned Chinese-style pajamas."

"Why are you getting so upset because I goofed up what type of night-wear you've got on, eh?" he asked. "It doesn't seem very _logical_. I know you're all about logic."

"Because the difference between a kimono and Chinese _seoi yi_ is the difference between mere aesthetics and inner balance," she snapped. Elizabeth was getting visibly annoyed. "Besides, I'm Chinese. I don't feel comfortable wearing Japanese clothing. I wouldn't expect a white boy like you to understand."

"_White _boy?" Remy sputtered. "Ex_cuse_ me, _mademoiselle_, I'll have you know—"

But he was interrupted by a light cough from the direction of the door. Kathleen, Tony, and the Director were standing there, all three with wide eyes.

* * *

They had decided to cut time by taking Rhodey's official looking military escort into Elizabeth's sleepy neighborhood. An unfamiliar motorcycle was parked outside. As Tony was about to ring the doorbell, Kathleen grabbed his wrist.

"She doesn't like doorbells. She never answers them."

"Then how do we get in?" Rhodey asked.

"I have a key," Kathleen answered, rummaging in her purse for her key ring. A jingle of her keys later, the door was open and they were stepping inside Ellie's house. The first impression Kathleen got was that nobody was home. Then she noticed that only a few lights were on, and that Ellie was not alone. Remy was standing only a few feet from her, wearing his usual trench coat, which was actually rippling with his anger and power. Even though his face only showed anger, more than anger was coming off him in waves. His face was steadily turning red, but not an angry red…it was the thick red of arousal. Kathleen attributed it partly to the fact that Ellie was wearing next to nothing.

Tony decided this was the most opportune moment to cough lightly but loud enough for them to hear. Their anger seemed to snap and dissipate immediately.

"So have you decided she's too dangerous to leave out on the streets?" Remy demanded coldly. Rhodey raised an eyebrow at his vicious verbal swipe.

"Elizabeth Chau, first I need to apologize for a grave mistake…"

Kathleen watched silently with arms crossed as Rhodey recited a formal speech outlining how the United States government had been wrong and how everything was going to be fixed. Ellie's face changed for a second from blank resignation to elatedness but reverted back to a neutral face as she shook Rhodey's hand.

"You are hereby reinstated at Stark University. Once again, I can't express how sorry we are for this mistake."

Kathleen knew that normally Ellie would've cut him off. But the day had been so emotionally toiling that she just let Rhodey talk. When Rhodey was done, they were ready to leave. Rhodey and Tony marched out the door with Remy trailing behind them. Only Kathleen was left.

"You told them."

It wasn't an accusation. Kathleen could only shrug.

"Tony figured it out. Apparently he _doesn't _just throw files away without reading them."

"He's smarter than we first thought."

Kathleen laughed.

"Thank you, Kathleen," Ellie said.

"If that hadn't worked, I would've asked Galia to pull up the file and the surveillance footage anyway. We were lucky that Tony was smart enough to figure it out."

As the men waited for Kathleen to come out, Remy went to call Galia at President Volker's office to let her know that the Director of the Iron Man Unit had formally given Elizabeth her job back.

"Your friend has got a thing for that Asian chick," Rhodey said out of the blue.

"Yes," Tony replied. He felt no obligation to hide anything about Elizabeth and Remy's strange budding relationship.

"If I hadn't given Elizabeth her job back, he probably would've blown my head up."

"Mmmmhm."

"….Interesting."

Although Tony was glad Remy seemed to have made some sort of progress of getting closer to Elizabeth, he had his own personal desires to attend to. And they were walking through the door in a tight pink dress.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Galia added cream to her latte. Today she was to attend an Iron Man Suit Fitting for some students, which meant hectic note-taking and a lot of sweat, following the President around. She didn't like Volker very much, but her job paid and in today's job market, that was too precious to give up.

There was something strange about the man. When he got angry, he often cursed in German, which at first she found funny, until he started to sound like Hitler. Galia also wasn't sure how she felt about his secret meetings where she _wasn't _allowed. As the President's Assistant slash Secretary she was supposed to be everywhere the President was. Meetings where she "wasn't allowed" rang the same bell as "illegal dealings."

She was about to put a lid on her coffee cup when Kurt appeared in her kitchen.

"Come with me," he said urgently.

She was too confused to move.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?"

"Come with me, if you want to live!" he said quickly, shaking his offered hand at her.

"What? Kurt, what is going on? How do you know where I live?"

"Do you trust me?" he demanded.

"What?"

"_Do you trust me?" _he said again. A few seconds passed while she stared at his hand.

"...Yes," she finally said.

He grabbed her hand, pulled her into a tight embrace, then teleported away.

* * *

Remy flexed his muscles before heading into the sparring room. Today had been his first day working in the explosives lab, and while his colleagues had been nice enough, he didn't like the way they had stared at him when they thought he didn't notice. And they hadn't been stares of admiration—his colleagues were wary of him. He knew what it was: they were afraid that he would accidentally set something off and they would all die in one big mushroom cloud of doom. Remy was familiar with this fear.

So he wanted to go knock some heads without consequences, without using his power. That wasn't normally how he let off steam, but the stress from work was really irritating. He had never worked with people who didn't have powers before. He felt like a freak next to them, and he didn't like it at all. And maybe getting hit in the process of giving them would remind everyone that he wasn't a god. He was just mortal like the rest of them.

A wave of heat washed over him when he entered the sparring room. Students and teachers mixed were sparring on cushioned mats on the floor while students and teachers who weren't sparring watched from the sidelines. "In the sparring room, the authority line between master and apprentice blurs," said the inscription above the double wooden doors. The only rule was no powers, which made perfect sense. Only that way would the fights be equal and the victory would be justified and fair.

Kathleen, in a light green sports top and matching sports shorts, was leaning against one of the tall balancing beams that outlined the mats. All of the females in the sparring room had bare midriffs, but it didn't seem to make the males hold back their aggression. On the contrary, Kathleen's naked flat stomach seemed to make the pair on the mat closest to her punch each other harder. Like a psychic, she turned around when he was several feet behind her and waved him over. Her skin shone as skin did right after doing a workout.

"Hey, Rem-sicle, how was your first day of school?" she asked turning back to observe the two sparring students on the mat in front of her. "Did you get along with the other kids?"

Remy grunted. He liked Kathleen; not in the way he liked Ellie, but he enjoyed being around the leggy brunette all the same. She was like the really hot older sister he never had.

"Twenty bucks, the little guy wins," she said suddenly.

"Do you have a gambling addiction?"

She made a face at him, yet still somehow maintained her attractiveness. Remy looked back at the two fighters. The little one looked like a pasty, uncooked chicken wing on a chicken that didn't want to be slaughtered compared to his opponent, who was a tall Samoan whose muscles bulged and flexed with every movement. The tribal tattoo on his shoulder looked reassuring.

"I'll take that bet," Remy replied. They looked on in silence as the sparring students grunted and growled against each other. The Samoan looked like he was about to slam his ham-sized fists in a definite knockout when suddenly, the shorter man crouched, grabbed the Samoan's ankles and promptly flipped him onto his backside. His enormous weight caused him to be stuck as his opponent exhibited an astonishing feat of strength and pinned him to the floor simply by holding down his ankles, bent over his head at an uncomfortable angle that made Remy squirm. It reminded him of how Ellie nearly cut off the blood flow to his testicles and his brain just by pinching two veins in his neck.

"You'll learn that here soon enough," Kathleen said, holding out her hand for the money. "Don't underestimate the little guy. You gotta know how to handle them, or else there's no way to beat them. The Samoan obviously isn't in the know."

"And you are?"

"Of course. Ellie is the shortest person on this campus, and I'm the only one who can beat her in hand-to-hand combat, and just barely. But that's not even factoring in her reluctance to beat up on someone she cares about. She can knock anyone back on their ass in a matter of minutes."

Remy highly doubted that. He chalked it up to Kathleen's tendency to exaggerate about her friend. Some of the stuff he heard about Ellie from people around campus seemed too incredible to believe–like the story that she once paralyzed a student for disrespecting her in class or that she could explode a chopstick in such a way that the splinters could simultaneously kill three men. He wasn't even sure how that last part was possible. She didn't have any sort of mutant powers, let alone one like his that dealt with kinetic energy.

Where was she anyway, he wondered. He asked Kathleen, and she jerked her head in the direction of the yoga mats. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the ground, her eyes closed in meditation. She was completely motionless–her eyelids didn't even flutter.

"After every workout she does some taichi and meditates to wind down. That kind of thing doesn't work for me–it's not physically challenging enough, so I just relax over here and watch some people beat up on each other for fun."

"Can she hear what we're saying?"

"Probably, but she also probably doesn't care...," Kathleen answered, shifting from foot to foot. Her ab muscles flexed, which gave away her sudden tension despite her calm face. "Why?"

Because he knew with whom he wanted to spar. Remy shed his trench coat with a shrug and slung it over his shoulder. Kathleen hissed in dismay when he started to stride very purposefully toward Ellie.

Unlike the other females in the room, Ellie wore a tight black jumpsuit with a high collar and cloth martial arts shoes instead of a skimpy pastel-colored sports bra and barely-there shorts. She didn't twitch at his approach–until he nudged her knee with the toe of his boot. Her eyes flicked open and gave him a side-long glare.

"Are you _suicidal?"_ Kathleen demanded from across the room.

Remy ignored her. "Do you hate me?" he asked.

He heard Kathleen mutter a string of curse words. Ellie didn't say anything–she just narrowed her eyes.

"Good. Spar with me. Don't hold back."

He dropped his brown trench coat next to her. Remy wanted to make it clear he wasn't going anywhere until she gave him what he wanted. A number of students had stopped to watch what was unfolding. Eventually, Ellie sighed and rose from her position on the ground. To Remy's surprise, she pulled _off _the leather gloves she was wearing. It became apparent that this was very bad when Kathleen let out a slow, "Oh...shit."

They took opposite sides of the mat. Ellie sank into a relaxed stance that was so intimidating Remy felt unsure of how to prepare himself. He'd seen the other pairs bow to each other, but it was clear Ellie had no intention of doing that. His muscles started to feel jittery from the adrenalin–he was afraid of her. But at the same time, it excited him. He mentally scolded himself for being such a pansy, getting excited like a little ninny for just a small touch from the woman he was pursuing. Students were starting to cheer, urging him to start moving.

Remy waited a few seconds, then launched off his back foot toward her. With the X-Men, he had been known for his speed. Even without the side effect of his mutant powers, Remy was a fast son of a gun, and he knew it. But that didn't seem to faze Ellie. She dodged the jab he made at her a full second before his arm slid past her without making contact. Using the sharp angles of her fingers, she jabbed right above his elbow and at his left triceps. Something bizarre happened. His left arm went limp, and suddenly lifting it seemed to take all the energy he had. He knew he'd been close to feeling the wrath of Ellie's pressure point attack back in her house, but before that he'd never known what it was like. It was absolutely terrifying. Ellie proceeded to sweep his leg so he tumbled over, immobilized more by shock than by anything else.

"You're a disrespectful," she jabbed above his knee, "insolent_," _his other arm, "_stupid _guy." She jammed two fingers underneath his chin. Everything went numb. He could see himself moving, but he had no conscious thought of control over his limbs. "I know guys like you, and I know what you'll do when you get bored of me," she said to him in a low voice. " Just leave me alone and stay out of my way. You're not worth the effort."

He just stared at her, not even processing what she said. He couldn't think straight, and his vision was starting to get blurry. He saw a fuzzy outline of Kathleen in her light green clothing approach and put a hand on Ellie's shoulder. At this point he blacked out completely.

* * *

Kurt reappeared with Galia in his arms a few blocks away from her house.

"That was very unsettling," Galia said, holding a hand to her stomach. "Why did you do that? What's going on?"

He stared at her house. Suddenly it lighted up in an explosion, bricks and wood flying everywhere. They were safely out of the danger zone.

"Der was a Stark missile being shot at your house. I overheard some scientists speaking, and they couldn't stop it."

"You saved me?" she asked. Galia stared blankly at the wreckage that was now her home.

"They were unable to override the coordinates with remote control settings," he said slowly. Kurt's eyes drifted over Galia's face, as if he was making sure she was alright.

"Why was a missile launched at my house?" Galia cried. All her belongings, and her work, and her _clothes_, gone within a few seconds.

"Let me take you to the University, and we'll find out. I'll find out for you."

She took his hand again, and they disappeared.

* * *

Hiroyuki slammed his hand down on the desk.

"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?"

Berthold twiddled his thumbs idly.

"He's not a student or a faculty member of this university. I've gone over every file of every person here, but my senses tell me he's part of Stark!"

"You need to find him, Berthold. That is your job," Hiro said. "If any of the former Axis countries find out what we're doing, they will slam us down before we can even get up."

"Don't worry, Kanegawa," Berthold said. Berthold himself wasn't even worried, and he'd been trying to do this since he could remember. "How hard can it be to find the one Italian who matches the historical description?"

"Obviously it's more difficult than you thought, because you _haven't found him yet_."

"I will find him, Hiro. Stop worrying. Agent Axis will rise again."

Hiro exhaled exasperatedly.

"Did you launch the missiles?"

"Of course I did. Ye of little faith," Berthold said. Being around Hiro made him giddy. Knowing that he had found another part of Agent Axis made him giddy.

"What if it doesn't work? Then they will all know that they've found something they weren't supposed to."

"I'll write it off as an unfortunate training exercise. It's been done before, many times, by Mr. Stark himself."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Volker."

* * *

"You shouldn't have pissed her off like that."

Remy lifted his head. He had been seated at an outdoor table outside of a coffee shop.

"You're lucky I know how to release the Pinch," Kathleen continued, taking a sip from her mug.

"Why does she hate me?" Remy asked. He blushed when he realized how whiney he sounded. "And since you're such good friends with her, why don't _you _hate me?"

Kathleen pushed a cup of coffee toward him. It was black. Just the way he liked it. He took a long drink from it, careful not to burn his tongue.

"The explanation is simple. She doesn't _hate _you. Ellie's scared of you."

Remy laughed incredulously.

"No, no, just hear me out," Kathleen said. "She doesn't really do romance anymore. Not after..."

He raised his eyebrows. Kathleen seemed to be debating within her mind whether or not to tell him.

"There was this guy, back when she was in China. They were in the A.U.C.S. together. She was...definitely...definitely in love with him."

Kathleen paused.

"_And?" _

"They were going to get married," Kathleen said slowly. "But then he ratted her out to the Boss of A.U.C.S., Ja Fahr. He ruined her cover, and they found out she was an American under cover spy. She was exiled from Southern China, and sent back to the U.S. Instead of going back undercover, Ellie came to work here."

Remy was silent, staring at Kathleen, silently pressing her for more details.

"This guy was a stallion. Kinda like you. And I mean that objectively and platonically."

"Tony would kill me if I tried anything," Remy said, holding up his hands. "So a guy broke her heart. She hasn't gotten over it yet?"

"She still wears the engagement ring around her neck."

"Oh. So she hasn't gotten over _him_ yet."

"Yes. But don't tell her I attested to that. She denies it vehemently."

Remy drained his coffee.

"In order to get Ellie to like you, you can't date her," Kathleen said. "You have to court her."

Remy laughed. It hurt his ribs.

"Stop laughing, this is serious!" Kathleen cried. "See, what Tony and I have is what you seem to be aiming for with Ellie, which I don't think is what you want. Carnal, animal attraction."

From the way her eyes softened, Remy had a suspicion that there was more than just that with her and Tony.

"But with Ellie, you need to prove that you're a good mate. Show her why you're the best choice. _Natural selection_," Kathleen whispered conspiratorially. Remy blilnked. "Come _on, _Rems. You have to _save her."_

"Save her from what?" Remy demanded. "As far as I can tell, she scares everyone around her too much for them to attack her."

"It happens, you're just not there enough to see it. Knowing what we know, Ellie and I get targeted a lot more than any average person should."

"This is ridiculous," Remy said, starting to get up. Kathleen caught his arm.

"A guy who is always there to protect her from anything," she said. "You can't get much more romantic or genetically fit than that. Plus you'd be beneficial for her babies."

* * *

Stephanie looked pensively out the window of the seventy-fifth floor of the science building. The window was actually a wall, tall and transparent, made completely of bullet-proof Stark glass. She occasionally liked to visit on her free time to immerse herself in that scientific atmosphere. Stark University had some of the world's leading experts in respective fields, so it was enjoyable to her to exercise her mind in the Stark University science department.

Outside, seventy-fifth stories down, students, a diligent bunch, studied, practiced, and scurried to their next classes or back to their dormitories or apartments. The sun was shining brightly and glinted off some of the students' metal suits. The air-conditioned inside of the building kept the place cool enough so that the scientists and students could work undisturbed by the blazing Malibu weather. Stephanie often wondered if many of these students collapsed from over-heating, but then quickly remembered that if Stark employed some of the best scientists in the world, then they probably took body temperature regulation into account when making the suits. She herself could already think of several ways to do that off the top of her head.

She sighed, trying to relieve years worth of boredom. It had been several years since The Incident, but she hadn't had the courage to step out and reveal her new powers. But knowing that she could do things just like the other super-powered beings at Stark University was only causing her problems while she forced herself to live a normal civilian life. Why couldn't she have given herself a normal, _scientist's _life? In her panic to try to control her power, Stephanie chose to retreat into a humdrum, safe existence. But she had quickly regretted doing so.

In the midst of her reverie, shouts erupted from the ground outside the building. A pin point and a trail of smoke was heading with alarming speed right at the window out of which she had been staring. Stephanie knew from reading about the buildings on campus that they could withstand a barrage from any branch of the U.S. military–excepting the Marines of course–but the thick glass wouldn't be able to hold up against a Stark missile, which was engineered to gain momentum and thus force as it traveled. "I'm not going to make something that is immune to my best seller. That's just bad business," Tony Stark had said at a highly publicized conference where he adamantly refused to fund an adamantium window.

She reacted instinctively. The scientists behind her were frozen in their fear and surprise at the sudden danger–as far as they knew, there was nothing they could do. The Stark missile would hit and the resulting explosion would ignite the chemicals that were on every floor and burn up every body that was within its walls. Stephanie braced herself against the glass, feeding her power through every atom. She felt her power run through her fingers and out of her face into the glass, creating an abstract web that would hopefully absorb the missile's explosion. Hopefully, her "Immunity" was enough.

Even though her eyes were closed, she could feel the impact against the palms of her hands, and her knees, and her cheek against the glass. She pushed with every muscle in her body against the resulting explosion, forcing all the fire outward. The scientists behind her had already vacated the floor, hoping to reach the exit on the ground level in time, so nobody was there to see her as she threw her netting around the missile's explosion and willed it to launch away and upward. If luck was on her side, the outer layer of the Earth's atmosphere would absorb the missile and everything she had sent up with it.

A large cracking sound started in front of her closed eyes. Slowly she opened them, and realized what she had forgotten. By pulling her Immunity netting out of the glass right after it had been hit, its molecular structure buckled underneath her fingers. Stephanie didn't have the strength to push away from it onto the safety of the seventy-fifth floor which, thanks to her, was still intact. The glass crumbled and she fell forward into the open air. But she was too tired to care. Maybe there was enough Immunity left in her body to cushion her fall to the ground. She doubted she would die, but it would still hurt.

The feeling of falling through air changed to something more comfortable. Stephanie felt like she was in the arms of a man, a very muscular man who smelled _very _nice.

"Are you alright, miss?" came a deep voice. It rumbled from a very muscular chest that was pushed up against her arm. Stephanie slowly opened her heavy eyelids again.

"Oh...I did die."

An angel was holding her. He had the face of an angel at least, with golden yellow hair that glinted in the sun. His wings made powerful whooshing sounds as he flapped them.

"No, you didn't," he laughed. He examined her body as he held her. "Not a scratch."

"There shouldn't be," Stephanie replied without thinking. Her words were slurred, and she felt so tired. She had closed her eyes again, so she couldn't see him raise one eyebrow.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Stephanie DeMarco."

"That's a pretty name," he replied, smiling to himself. She was a pretty woman.

"What's yours?" she asked sleepily.

"Warren. Warren Worthington."


End file.
